


Cloudy Days with a Touch of Sun

by ylri



Category: Naruto
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon-Typical Violence, Post-Second Shinobi War, Pre-Canon, S-I just wants to fix everything and everything will surely be fine, Self-Insert, because they won't, don't think that the timelines are going to make sense, get ready to butcher canon lads, i don't know how to write kids?, i've never done a self insert before, just don't ask too many questions, my knowledge of naruto comes from fanfics pls be gentle, reincarnation is not a peer-reviewed science, the Sannin are gonna be here somewhere probs, the hatakes deserve better, the name of this fic came out of my ass, the uchiha deserve better
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-15
Updated: 2021-03-22
Packaged: 2021-03-23 08:35:12
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 29,301
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30052770
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ylri/pseuds/ylri
Summary: Imagine, one day, you woke up as a baby. Strange people were holding and comforting you and it was kind of weird but also kind of nice?And also maybe imagine you aren't actually you but someone in an entirely different universe that you were pretty sure was just an anime or something but now people look like people.Now, stop imagining, because your hands are tiny and they don't do anything useful. Being held *is* pretty nice, though.In which an ordinary purveyor of Naruto media finds himself in the very world he so enjoyed, and decides it to be simultaneously the worst and best thing ever. Rescuing everyone will surely be a piece of cake, right?(it seems that way, until it isn't)
Relationships: add: not sure yet
Comments: 35
Kudos: 30





	1. Chapter 1

It was a bit like a dream, you know?

Maybe, in the far reaches of your mind, you know it’s something like a dream, but you’re just kind of experiencing it as it goes without any true impulses or action on your part. 

There were brief flashes of ‘lucidity’, of really seeing, and they mainly consisted of glimpses of dark hair and dark eyes. A soft smile looking down at him; he was being held.

Sometimes he would feel distressed, and then there would be a rumble, like thunder in the distance, which gradually settled on his ears into a soothing hum of some strange melody he’d never heard. He always calmed down after that. 

Real awareness didn’t come until later. And with it the realization that…

I’m an infant. He thought to himself, utterly confused. He was seeing now, consciously and continuously, none of that touch-and-go business. And he was… tiny. He was tiny but with very big thoughts, and he was sure that, could he see his tiny little baby self, he would - well, he’d probably look a lot like a baby, but surely a very confused one. 

This was accompanied by a fair bit of crying, because he was most assuredly not supposed to be a baby. It was quite unfair. Often would come the storm-melody that settled the deep conflict into his chest down to a few sniffles and a distinct frown.

“Tou-san,” he managed to blurt out with his uncoordinated baby tongue, because that word sounded right. Like he’d heard it before, or something. The word sounded correct, but unfortunately his voice didn’t, because it was high-pitched and breaking and just plain weird, and this was all weird.

“Yes, that’s me, Ao-kun.” came the response from the thunder-man holding him, accompanied by a steadily more familiar smile.

No way, came the thought. Aokun? What kind of name was that? That wasn’t his name.

His baby mouth wouldn’t let him protest this point, however, and would continue to restrict him for several months.

It was time he spent thinking.

He was a baby. He had a tou-san - a father, and a kaa-san - er, mother. Words were strange. Words were very strange, in fact, because he recognised those words he associated particularly with those two darling people who held him and admittedly made him feel very nice and fed him. They were in a language that was very not-his.

Had he been reborn into Japan? What a terrifying thought. He didn’t know anything about Japanese society, except that it was way different from his normal one. Er, his first one. 

His vision adjusted gradually, becoming increasingly adept at seeing more than his parents’ faces (which, he’d admit, were becoming his favorite things to see). Enough to discern his surroundings. They lived in a wooden house, which he liked; he’d always wanted to live in a log cabin, or something similar. 

At least… in his past life. Before.

Oh - another important thing. His name wasn’t Aokun, like he’d initially thought, but Aozen, which his tou-san had affectionately shortened to Ao-kun. Aozen was at least marginally better than the first one. 

He knew enough to be aware that he was no longer speaking English, but what could only be Japanese, which was its own frustration, because all of that vocabulary he’d been so fond of had been thrown at the window.

“Ao-kun,” said kaa-san, who had also adopted the nickname, “don’t make a mess.” Fine motor control was also a distant memory, as showcased by the bowl of food he’d accidentally slapped off the table in an attempt to grab.

“Sorry,” he mumbled as she rose to clean it.

He was an entire year old. 

========================================

He was walking before he knew it, which was an incredible relief. He recalled some faint memories of his before-one-year-oldness where he thought he was trying to escape his crib but had failed.

He did not speak often, which was probably an oversight, but he was too busy thinking all the time.

Had he died? Was this reincarnation? 

Well, clearly it was, but weren’t those people supposed to not remember anything? He remembered a lot. Most things, actually, except for how to be a baby (this naturally meant he didn’t even try to do so). 

He’d only been a scant eighteen years old. A wee babe. Not really, but still, fairly young. He’d left a lot behind - really close friends, other parents. Well, not just ‘other’ parents, parents that he loved very much.

Did they… know?

He’d always promised himself he wouldn’t leave them by dying prematurely (which was, morbidly, mostly a resolve against suicide) but… well, whatever happened clearly wasn’t his fault. 

These thoughts were usually followed by a distinct frown, and generally, since tou-san or kaa-san was in the area, they tended to pick him up to resolve this frown. Often with food, but also the storm-melody in the case of tou-san. 

He slept a lot.

When he wasn’t sleeping or thinking or being held or generally just doing other completely normal toddler things, he was walking, and exploring.

This was a trait he’d had in his first childhood too, a tendency to climb everything in sight that looked even remotely climbable. Stairs, couches, doors, kitchen counters, tables - you name it, he climbed it. Or… tried to. It was good exercise, but kaa-san fretted. 

This was perhaps important, because, as he soon discovered, though his mind knew what to do, his tiny, practically non-existent muscles often couldn’t execute such commands.

He’d tried to pull himself up onto the table once and hit himself in the head when he fell back in the adult chair.

(He did not cry. He didn’t, honest.)

(maybe a little. kaa-san’s arms were very comforting.)

========================================

At some point, he turned two years old. There was a party, and a lot of unfamiliar people wishing him congratulations. There was even cheek-pinching from some of the elderly women who apparently thought he was the cutest thing.

(He was the cutest thing, but it was a little annoying nonetheless.)

He decided against talking very often except to smile shyly and thank everyone. Many were surprised he could speak, but since he had no idea when babies normally started talking, he had no idea if he should’ve held his tongue. He heard tou-san proudly boast about his intelligence across the room.

“I am certain he will grow to be a valuable member of the clan, Fushima-sama.” he heard kaa-san say. He leaned forward in his seat at that. From his spot he couldn’t really see who his parents were talking to, but the words piqued his interest. 

He thought maybe everyone just dressed in their robe-like clothing because of the formal occasion, but the use of ‘clans’ maybe meant that he’d been born into some older era in Japan’s history? That didn’t quite make sense, because he knew that he’d been to a toilet. Had done many times now, in fact. Plus, there was an oven in the kitchen.

“I look forward to seeing your son’s growth, Yuhoki.” came the wizened response, gravelly in a way that he thought tou-san’s might become when he was older. So, Yuhoki was kaa-san’s name. That was a pretty name. Which made sense, because his mom was pretty - in both lives. 

The rest of the birthday party passed in a blur once he started thinking.

========================================

If there was a God, or, excuse him, Kami, he was reasonably certain said Kami would be laughing at him about now.

He wasn’t in Japan. He wasn’t even close to Japan, because as far as he knew, Japan did not exist there. Rather, ‘there’ was a product of Japan, in a roundabout way.

No, he had had the distinguished misfortune of being reborn into the great Elemental Nations, in the city that he was fairly certain was called Konohagakure, the Village Hidden in the Leaves. 

!!

Like, excuse him, but he thought that the Many Worlds theory was unproven? Hinduism too, while he was at it; reincarnation had not been peer-reviewed. 

Oh, sure, maybe there were a few things to be excited about, like being a shinobi and such like, but there were also many things to be afraid of, like being a shinobi. A literal ninja with magic fighting other ninjas with magic. It’s - well, it’s actually kind of cool when put like that, but still.

“Ao-kun?” came tou-san’s voice. El - Aozen, he reminded himself, had had his arms crossed where he sat on the couch, a deep brown etched on his baby face. He looked up at his father.

“Storm song.” He raised his arms above his head in the universal gesture of wanting to be held, and tou-san obliged with a chuckle. He hadn’t figured out the word for ‘melody’ yet, or he’d use that, but tou-san was familiar with the phrase anyway.

Tou-san sat down and placed Aozen in his lap, making himself a chair. He began humming the storm-melody and he relaxed against tou-san’s chest, feeling as well as hearing the rumbling of his voice. 

Aozen didn’t fall asleep, but instead just focused on the song, allowing thoughts to exit his mind in favor of a pleasant, relaxing distraction.

It ended, as all songs, must, and Aozen opened his eyes.

“I wish I could see what goes on that head of yours.” Tou-san said fondly, patting Aozen’s head.

“Thinking.” Aozen responded earnestly, earning an amused exhalation from his father.

“What about?” Tou-san asked, and he considered how best to answer. He had not yet been one for conversation, preferring instead to try and get a grasp on his coordination (or lack thereof) whilst exploring the house. But, this might be the best time to ask, and who better to trust if not his tou-san?

“Our clan.” He said at last, and after a moment Aozen was shifted so that his father could look down at him. He peered upward, the question hopefully clear in his eyes.

“We are the Uchiha. One of the five great Noble clans of Konoha, and one of two founding Clans alongside the Senju.” Tou-san said solemnly, holding Aozen’s gaze.

Oh.

Oh no. 

Oh very no. 

This was quite possibly the worst news in the history of ever, and he did not like it one bit.

On the drama scale of one to ten, the Uchiha were about a solid fourteen on a good day. On a bad day, the scale was irrelevant because they had started a new war or international incident or something. The only thing worse would be… well, he couldn’t actually think of one at that moment. 

Aozen frowned at that and looked away, thinking. 

“How long?” He looked back up.

“How long have we been a clan?” Tou-san asked.

He shook his head. “How long did Kh - Kohn -” he stopped, frustrated. “Vill-uhj.” he over-enunciated. The words were unfamiliar, and his inability to convey his questions properly was irksome.

“Konohagakure was founded about fifty-five years ago, give or take.” Tou-san answered. This prompted another bit of thinking.

He didn’t really know his timelines for this world that well, admittedly. He wasn’t sure if the writers even knew the timelines, but fifty-five years was probably enough time for the first two Shinobi World Wars to have happened. 

“Not old.” he said past his frown.

“I suppose not.” he chuckled. “But in the shinobi world, fifty-five years is a very long time.” Tou-san said this as though it was simply a fact.

Yeah… extremely low life-expectancy. He had that to look forward to, as well. Wasn’t that just grand.

He exhaled in the toddler equivalent of a sigh and leaned into tou-san’s chest. 

“Tired.” he mumbled into his father’s shirt. Thinking was simply exhausting these days.

“Not to worry.” Tou-san said, and before long he was scooped up and the storm-melody was being hummed again. He was asleep before he knew it.

========================================

Aozen had gone on walks before, around (what he now knew as) the Uchiha compound, but neither of his parents had taken him outside, into Konoha proper. So, when Kaa-san had offered to take him on a trip to the market district, he’d wholeheartedly agreed.

He had resolutely begun walking through the gates holding kaa-san’s hand when she heard her primly laugh. Aozen frowned and turned around to look at her.

“I’ve got something more interesting in mind than walking, Ao-kun. Come along.” She made to pick him up and he easily obliged. He had been excited to walk, to get a look at the village, but being carried was always nice. 

However, instead of being carried in the normal on-the-hip way he was used to, she shifted him to be on her back.

“Hold on tight, Ao-kun.” He wrapped his arms around her neck - careful not to choke her - and his legs around her midsection.

“Okay, kaa-san.” he said easily, a smile forming on his face. Was she going to do what he thought she was going to - woah.

The world turned into a blur and his stomach turned, but in a pleasant way, like when you accelerated forward from the crest of a rollercoaster. Despite the suddenness of the motion, he didn’t even budge from kaa-san’s back, as though he were attached to her back.

There were lulls in her shunshin for the briefest moments as she presumably found another spot to launch off of. Before he knew it, he was laughing, pure joy escaping him in a way that it hadn’t in a while. Shunshin rides were amazing!

Kaa-san came to stop in a clearing of trees, and Aozen’s laughter had settled into quiet giggles. 

“Did you have fun?” Kaa-san asked, entirely redundantly. Aozen nodded his head several times anyway as he was put on the ground.

“How?” He asked, a smile still on his face.

“I used my chakra.” She said matter-of-factly. His eyes lit up.

“How?” He asked again, and was rewarded with a soft smile. Tou-san was the more expressive of his parents, louder and warmer in most ways, but Kaa-san was no less affectionate. simply subdued. Her smiles always felt like sunshine, and Aozen practically preened at having earned one.

“First thing’s first, Ao-kun. Do you know what chakra is?” Her smile faded but the glint of mirth remained in her eyes. Aozen hesitated, because he kind of did, but only theoretically. And he wasn’t sure he had the words - or if he was supposed to know them. He decided to shake his head.

“Chakra is the energy of life. Everyone has it, but shinobi are capable of using it to achieve a variety of effects, like sticking to things,” she poked him in the chest, “or moving really fast.” She gestured to herself.

“How many kinds?” He said, and the glint in her eye turned to what he thought might be pleasant surprise. He had always been good at reading people, even Before, and he had been looking at Kaa-san for a whole two years. 

“Everyone’s chakra is different, but we usually separate it between physical chakra,” she tapped his chest again, “and spiritual chakra.” She tapped his head. He touched the two spots afterward, as though chakra might sprout from him at the contact. 

“Wanna go fast.” He said immediately, and Kaa-san laughed lowly, but with genuine delight. A smile tugged at his face at the sound, but he was completely serious.

Tiny baby body aside, surely he could try? Maybe his equivalent mental age made up for the lack of physical development, since he had the will (hopefully) to try and mold chakra.

“Not yet, Ao-kun. It could be dangerous if you tried. First, we’ll see if you can feel your own chakra first. Molding it to form jutsu will come later.” He tried to absorb every word he could, so that he might be able to ask the right questions later.

The small clearing they were in was not ‘abandoned’ so much as it was untraveled, and he had no idea how close they were to the road or the market district, but grocery shopping was the furthest thing from his mind at that moment.

“As I said, everyone’s chakra feels different. Your father’s is warm and flowing, like a hot wind, while he says mine is like the heart of a furnace, sharper.” He frowned, because he didn’t know all of those words, but nodded his head. 

Kaa-san, instead of crouching down to talk to him face-to-face, chose instead to sit down. He remained standing, because now they were at eye-level.

“Close your eyes.” He obliged. “Breathe slowly, and think about it as though you’re looking inside of your body. To your inner-self. There should be a pool of energy at the bottom of your stomach.” 

He had the bizarre inclination to play up his two-year-oldness and simply say that that was where his food went, in a complete misunderstanding of the point, but he decided against it. 

He tried to regulate his breathing as Kaa-san was demonstrating, and imagined his awareness sinking through his body to search for something deeper. He thought that maybe he heard something - or more accurately, felt something in the back of his skull as he sank, almost like a pressure.

Something in his gut stirred, and it felt like… pins-and-needles. The sensation was so sudden that he opened his eyes and gasped, looking around as though he might have suddenly teleported himself. 

“It felt fuzzy!” He proclaimed excitedly. Static was the word he wanted, but he didn’t know the equivalent from English.

“Fuzzy - like you couldn’t see it very well?” Kaa-san inquired, and he shook his head.

He reached forward to take her arm, and she let him. He poked lightly and very fast all over her arm, not enough to hurt (kaa-san’s arm was made of muscle, honestly, he doubted he could’ve made a dent) but just enough for her to feel.

“Like touching that.” He explained, letting her arm go. The look in her eyes was positively glowing, and her lips curved in the smallest of smiles.

“Very good, Ao-kun.” She reached forward to give him a kiss on his forehead and he beamed. He felt his chakra! Moreover, he had chakra! 

Okay, yeah, maybe he’d been disturbed to have found himself in the Elemental Nations, but he couldn’t deny that being able to use chakra was something that was never even remotely possible in his world. It was basically magic. And he was (technically) two. It was a big deal.

He insisted on sitting on kaa-san’s back whilst she shopped so he didn’t have to focus on menial tasks like walking or looking around while he tried to focus on his chakra again.

========================================

He didn’t really pay attention to his parent’s discussions unless he was involved in it or at the dinner table (and even then), so he must have missed the part where he was apparently old enough to start learning things. Eurgh.

Oh, he might have been excited if it was interesting things like chakra theory, or using chakra, or the tools of the shinobi trade, or things in that vein.

No, instead he was learning calligraphy.

In his previous life, he’d had terrible handwriting, which was ironic, because he was a writer in his spare time. But then, he’d always used computers. 

He supposed that he should be grateful for the opportunity to actually learn how to write in his new language, but it was proving difficult, because he had intimate knowledge of having used English his entire life and things like hirogana and kanji were utterly foreign.

Slightly more interesting were lessons with Mikoni-obaa-sama, the chief priestess at the Uchiha’s ancestral shrine. He and kaa-san went to the shrine every few days, and other Uchiha children did the same, though without their parents. They were, he could tell, physically older, but he had no interest in them since they were still children compared to him.

Mikoni-obaa-sama told them about the history of the Uchiha; of the mythology their belief system was rooted in; of their hundreds of years of battle against the Senju; of the Warring Clans era; and of the founding of Konoha and the subsequent (relative) peace. All spread out over several weeks, of course.

It was, he later admitted, more interesting than he’d thought when he was dragging his feet for no particular reason at the beginning. 

He has since resolved himself to having to go through multiple stages of learning again, but good heavens if he couldn’t wait to start learning practical things.

If he was going to be an Uchiha, he resolved to at least be powerful enough to survive the drama this would no doubt entail, and that meant training.

(He tried not to think about the Sharingan and what it meant; that was a problem for later.)

========================================

Physical training came after he turned three. Kaa-san had continued to do chakra exercises with him, which usually amounted to the equivalent of meditation. It was only months later that tou-san had taken him to the Uchiha training grounds to show him rudimentary katas. He was ecstatic.

He’d had no real experience with martial arts in his past life, but he’d always thought it was incredibly interesting. He understood the principles of martial combat even if he didn’t have the foreknowledge to mentally adjust for small, beginner’s mistakes.

Which was a blessing of itself.

His intelligence was clearly noticed, because he’d never seen anyone as young or small as him around the training grounds or at Obaa-sama’s lessons. He didn’t quite know how troublesome being a ‘prodigy’ was going to be, but if he had to be a normal toddler for several more years, he was going to lose it.

He preferred to think about what he was going to do rather than the situation he was in most of the time, because the latter usually brought about morbid if not outright depressive thoughts. 

The thought of making progress, though, of learning valuable, practical skills, made him virtually giddy. His enthusiasm didn’t translate to better coordination or correct stances, though, as tou-san continually reminded him, so he had to go about it the old-fashioned way: repetition. It was only months later that he was started on throwing exercises.

Kunai were pretty amazing.

He was not so amazing at throwing them.

Or, more accurately, he wasn’t so amazing at hitting the target.

Tou-san was an encouraging presence who continually corrected any errors in form, and assured him that, like with his katas, practice made perfect. Or, actually, perfect practice made perfect. Funny how some sayings were universal - literally.

Tou-san only took him to practice throwing every few days, but katas were done every other day, with rest days in between. Although Aozen had no one to compare himself to, he thought he was getting pretty good at them.

His writing was progressing nicely, and it was very gratifying to see that whatever genetic predisposition he’d had to chicken-scratch in the Before did not extend to his reincarnation. His grasp of language was also expanding. 

He turned four in May.

He contemplated that, technically, he was now twenty-two if he counted both lives. He didn’t know how to feel about that except sad, because of all he’d unwillingly left behind, so he decided against thinking about it entirely.

========================================

His parents didn’t really argue. From what he knew of the Uchiha, arranged marriages were fairly common, but his parents seemed like the sort to have found true love, and the glimpses he often caught of their casual affection with each other never failed to elicit a warmth in his chest.

So when he encountered harsh tones and sharp words in the kitchen, he hung back in his room with the door cracked to try and eavesdrop.

“...Fushima has noticed you taking him to the training grounds, along with the majority of the clan. You can’t be surprised that this has happened.” Kaa-san’s voice.

“No, but I can still be displeased. There’s absolutely no reason to push for it so soon, accelerated progress or no.” Tou-san.

“What did you expect? We’ve both known he’s far above-average for a while now, and - and before long, Iwa will grow restless.” Aozen frowned at that.

“That doesn’t instill me with confidence in the least.” Tou-san, sounding more stern that he’d ever heard him. 

“Koju…” came kaa-san’s voice, quiet enough that he almost didn’t hear it. His father’s name was Kojuka. “I’ve pulled all the strings I can, but they’re going to send me to active duty soon. The only reason they haven’t sent you already is because Fugaku assures his father that you’re going to take a position in the Police Force.”

There was a name he knew, which gave him an idea of exactly where on the timeline he was. The idea of the Third Shinobi World War did not please him in the slightest, and even worse was the thought that either kaa-san or tou-san would have to leave.

His father sighed. “I know. Kami damn it, I know.”

“He’s going to -” Kaa-san stopped suddenly, and he hesitated, before backing up from the door.

Kaa-san opened the door and he tried to look casual, but utterly failed. So he tried to look cute and innocent instead, widening his eyes and looking up at her.

She favored him with a small, wan smile, but shook her head. “Come along, Ao-kun. Your father and I need to talk with you.”

“Okay.” he said quietly, resisting the urge to sigh. He followed her past the kitchen and into the dining room, where the three of them took their seats. 

“How much did you overhear?” Tou-san asked, and he glanced between them.

“Fushima-sama wants to send me to the Academy, doesn’t he?” His parents exchanged a look.

“He has observed the training your father and I have been putting you through, and believes that you’re advanced enough.” Kaa-san says neutrally. Aozen thinks.

“The normal students are older than I am,” he notes. Tou-san nods.

“You’re very intelligent, Ao-kun,” he says with a smile. Aozen responds in kind, but the smile is small because he’s also thinking. Tou-san continues, “Normally, children don’t begin the Academy until six year old. Some of the children from other clans might start at five if they’re skilled.”

So, he was now a bona fide prodigy. Noticed by the clan head, and everything. A part of him was admittedly pleased by the attention, because he had noticed that the label alone opened opportunities for individuals that would not come about otherwise. 

But then, not all of those opportunities would be pleasant. Some of them wouldn’t be opportunities at all, but rather dangers.

If he could get on a genin team with some prominent Jounin - but then, the only one who came to mind was Minato. Was he even on time for that? He thought that Team Minato had come about in the middle of the war, and he’d be in the Academy before it even started.

“But not four.” He says evenly after a delayed pause.

“No,” kaa-san answers, “typically not.”

“Regardless of what Fushima-sama says,” Tou-san speaks quickly after, “we will not push you towards anything you don’t want to do.”

“We’re absolutely certain that no matter what you do, you’re going to excel at it.” Kaa-san smoothly adds on.

Well… he was going to have to go sooner or later, right? 

“I would like to go.” He decides, and looks at both of them. He doesn’t miss the flicker of something in tou-san’s eyes, but doesn’t dwell on it. “I want to learn more. And -” he hesitates. 

Sometimes he doesn’t know how much of him is him and how much of it is Aozen; of the person Aozen is supposed to be. He doesn’t know how much of this is a balancing act between what he knows is supposed to happen and who he is as a person.

He’s living here, whether he likes it or not. He can’t pretend that he’s just a character in a story. When he falls, he gets hurt; when he throws kunai or shuriken for too long and too hard, he gets blisters or cuts himself. And at the end of most days, he’s tired.

He can’t pretend that his parents are characters, either. He examines both of their expectant gazes, the two having grown used to pauses in his speech while he thinks, and he feels a stirring in his gut.

He loves them. They have cared for him and loved him, and he cannot help but do the same in return.

“I would like to bring honor to the Uchiha. We… deserve to be - liked. Respected.”

Sometimes, in the quietest moments, he cannot help but imagine the silence of the entire compound after the Massacre. He has no idea what that silence is like, not truly, but he is resolved, no matter how many years from now it may be, that no one will fall victim to that silence.

The Uchiha are respected, but he has the boon of meta-knowledge of some of the village’s politics - even if his idea of the political climate was a decade or so too early - and so knows that resentment will only grow.

Maybe he doesn’t feel particular patriotism for his clan, but his heart laments the folly of their choices preceding the massacre, and the village that let it happen, if not outright encouraged it.

His words were followed by a fierce burning of pride in both his parents’ eyes. Tou-san favored him with one of his brightest smiles, and Kaa-san with the intensity of her gaze and the love therein.

“Oh my darling,” Kaa-san said, standing to come over to him, “you will take them by storm.” She scooped him out of the chair into a hug, and tou-san followed, squishing Aozen between them. 

“I love you,” Aozen mumbled into their clothing.

“We love you too,” Tou-san responded warmly. 

========================================

There was a certain giddiness in preparing for his first day of school. Although he’d drag his feet a lot, he did like learning, and it was no small amount of surreal to live in a world that had previously only been fantasy; two-dimensional, in a way. 

Both kaa-san and tou-san elected to take him there on another shunshin trip (he rode on tou-san this time) before stopping a bit away so they could walk the last stretch. He elected to hold both of their hands, because it was nice to be able to do that sometimes.

The academy looked like any other school, with crowds of parents and children either coming for the first time or returning for their next year. Kids chattered to their parents, or to other kids they knew, and parents talking amongst themselves.

It was… incredibly mundane. Normal.

He reminded himself that this school was one that made child soldiers, and he frowned. 

“Thinking, Ao-kun?” Tou-san intou-ned (punny). They had made reference to what they called his ‘thinking face’ many times now, and often knew when to prompt him for his thoughts. If he didn’t want to answer, he’d usually just grunt an affirmative to the technically-a-question and say nothing.

“They are very young.” He comments.

Tou-san chuckles and suddenly lifts him up, placing him on his shoulders. He can’t help but smile. He knows very well how contradicting his behavior is - mentally eighteen and in another world one moment, but a child the next - but can’t and hasn’t yet bothered to care.

“You’re also very young.” Kaa-san says beside them, humor in her voice. 

“I’m old where it counts.” he protests, a genuine response - more genuine than either of them knew.

“That you are, Ao-kun.” Tou-san said, and his parents both exchanged a glance. He affected not to notice it. 

His parents left after they’d signed him in with hugs and kisses, and he was directed to classroom 2B.

It was strange to be walking alone; he’d done it all the time around the house, of course, but for the most part he’d never actually been in an unfamiliar place without either of his parents with him, or another adult like Mikoni-obaa-sama. 

Not to mention, he was shorter than he thought he was, and though the true difference between him and his classmate was barely a few inches at most for the older kids, maybe an inch for his yearmates, it was noticeable.

“Uh, is this classroom 2B?” Aozen asked lamely, and redundantly. It was very clearly the classroom in question because the sign outside the door said so.

His new teacher, a tall, lanky man with light brown hair, gave him a faintly amused look, but nodded.

“Yes, it is. Take a seat wherever. We’ll begin whenever everyone arrives.” The classroom layout was as standard as could be. The sensei sat at a desk upfront, and there were neat, orderly rows of chair-desks (desk-chairs? you know the ones) that could probably seat about twenty-to-thirty kids. 

Aozen chose a seat on the column closest the door, the second row back. Close enough to clearly see everything, but also to have a look around without having to do a one-eighty. There were only a few other students in the room but none of them looked familiar nor stood out, so he didn’t look at them for very long.

He watched as new students entered, trying to see if he recognised any clan markings or neat hair colors (because those were as important as the clan, sometimes, if not moreso).

He thought there was a blonde girl who was likely a Yamanaka (was Inoichi old enough to have children yet? Did Ino ever have siblings?) and who he assumed was a Nara who slouched his way to a seat in the back (did the Nara slouch count as a kekkei genkai?).

He perked up when he spotted the familiar features of another Uchiha student. He made eye-contact with his fellow dark-eyed boy and tried to convey a wordless message to sit nearby. He had no idea if the Uchiha got it or not, but he sat in the next row near him, so it worked out.

He blinked, staring into thin air for a moment. He was already succumbing to the classroom atmosphere - wanting someone he ‘knew’ to sit next to him? He might’ve laughed.

“Alright, looks like you’re all here,” came the steady voice of their teacher. “My name’s Kohaku Tajiro. You all can call me sensei or Tajiro-sensei. Got it?”

He and some of the other children chorused, “Yes, sensei.” About ninety percent of the class did not. Tajiro-sensei leveled the most unimpressed look Aozen had ever seen at those of them who didn’t say anything and cleared his throat.

The rest of them all hurried to say “Yes, sensei!”, though not in anything nearing unison. Aozen personally thought that was amazing, because the sensei hadn’t even had to say anything. He wondered if he could learn how to do that with his eyebrows.

Tajiro-sensei went through a lot of what basically amounted to disclaimers for a while. First among them was: no, he will not be teaching the children anything to do with chakra until they were ready, which would not be until at least their third year. There was a lot more about the weapons they’d be using, and how they were never to turn it against their fellow Konohans, and stuff like that. A general overview of the curriculum; a lot of it was academic, with a fair bit of physical exercise sprinkled in. He presumed things would get more serious in later years.

Aozen was mildly disappointed, because he was quite looking forward to learning ninjutsu, but it made sense to not give all the five- and six-year-olds dangerous magic. 

He blinked and sensei had moved on.

“Now, all of you are going to introduce yourself and tell us something about yourself. Likes, dislikes, what have you. We’ll start over here, by the door.” Ah, yes. He had forgotten that this was a thing that students did. 

In the Before, he’d just been getting into college, with professors that didn’t actually care about that sort of stuff. Now he was four years old. Might be a nice change of pace.

“My name’s Nishitake Momon,” said the guy in front of him. “I like chocolate.” The kid seemed normal enough. Aozen, naturally, was next.

“My name is Uchiha Aozen,” and wasn’t that weird to consider, “and my favorite color is green. I would like to learn more of everything.” He said, trying to be earnest. His response didn’t garner much more than a few looks, and the process quickly went on. He tried to pay attention, but only really focused when it came to his fellow Uchiha.

“My name is Uchiha Mohira. My - my favorite color is red. I would like to learn.” Mohira threw a glance to Aozen at that, and he smiled slightly at having been used as an example.

As the introductions continued, he was right in having guessed after a Yamanaka and a Nara, but most of the rest were from minor clans or civilian-born. He ventured that the only one he’d really interact with was Mohira, simply because he was the safest, in Aozen’s mind.

He… wasn’t really sure how that worked, but he had never been a big social butterfly, at least on a large scale. 

The lesson ended shortly thereafter, and the class was dismissed. Almost immediately, Aozen attempted to walk next to Mohira as they left.

“Hello.” He said with a small smile.

“Hi.” Mohira greeted back, a bit hesitant - shy, then.

“...I didn’t know there’d be another Uchiha in my class.” Aozen says earnestly, trying to strike up conversation. He figured having a friend might be useful. And just, nice in general.

“Me neither.” Mohira admitted. There were a few beats of silence before he said, “You’re younger than me.”

“Yes.” he says simply. They look at each other as they walk, before Mohira eventually shrugs.

“Okay. Is your favorite color really green?” He asked immediately, apparently, having decided to get over whatever shyness he’d had.

“Yes. Why?”

“I’unno. I just thought - the Uchiha are red, so our favorite colors should be red.” Mohira answered. Well, that made a bit of sense. He wondered if that was some sort of unconscious conditioning effect. 

“That’s not how favorite colors work, though.” Mohira frowned.

“What do you mean?”

“Well, favorite colors are about what you feel.” Aozen explained. “I like the way green looks and makes me feel, so it’s my favorite color. Does red sound like that?” Mohira was still frowning.

“...no. Not really. I mean, I like it, but it’s not the nicest color.” The red of the Uchiha was usually associated with blood, so that made sense too. 

“What color do you think is your favorite, then?” Mohira pondered the question with the gravitas only a six-year-old could manage.

“I don’t know yet. But I’ll figure one out.” He said resolutely, and Aozen smiled, glad to have helped.

“Oh - come on! I can introduce you to my kaa-san and tou-san, and you can introduce me to yours!” Aozen said, and started forward at a much faster pace for the entrance to the Academy, where his parents would no doubt be waiting. He glanced behind him to make sure Mohira was following - he was.

They were, in fact, waiting, along with dozens (if not hundreds) of other parents.

“Kaa-san! Tou-san! Look, I made a friend!” Aozen proclaimed proudly, gesturing behind him at Mohira.

Later that night, when he was in bed and wrapped into his Big Thoughts, he mused about how he’d forgotten about being a kid. How simple it was.

It was… nice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: yo whatup peeps. if anyone’s reading this, this is a completely spur-of-the-moment project. literally, i started writing this afternoon. i’m kinda happy with this first chapter though, and it’s fun to write even if i don’t know what i’m doing.
> 
> so, first thing’s first: odds are this won’t get finished. in fact, i would be astonished if i got beyond the fifth chapter. BUT. don’t let that stop you from reading, because i hope that what i *do* write is entertaining, even if it’s mostly for me.
> 
> who knows, maybe i’ll surprise myself and actually get somewhere with this project. maybe i’ll even get attached.
> 
> anywho. if anyone’s reading this; feel free to leave a review/comment about anything. cheers friends
> 
> ~ylri


	2. Chapter 2

As it turned out, Mohira’s favorite color was blue. He said that he’d always liked the koi pond next to the Uchiha shrine, and that it made him feel peaceful, so that it was his favorite color. 

The next few months passed fairly quickly in retrospect, but very slowly in the moment. He continued to meditate with Kaa-san regularly, and by now he had a good feel for my chakra but both of his parents insisted that I wasn’t yet ready to move onto jutsu, which found him fairly disgruntled.

The Academy was not boring per se, but it was pretty easy. All of the academic classes were so below his level that he could’ve done them in his sleep, and he had to remind himself that he wasn’t actually a genius, he just had the benefit of experience in four-year-old’s body.

There were propaganda - excuse him, history classes about Konoha and Fire Country, and he learned about the more widespread religion of the Will of Fire (the Uchiha, as some of the oldest clans, still kept to the old religions but were discreet about it) as well as a more in-depth account of some of the other clans in the village.

There were classes on basic arithmetic, reading and comprehension skills, and normal, boring, ordinary, everyday life school things. If he had been reborn as a Nara, he’d be sleeping a lot (the Nara in his class did just that, much to the consternation of Tojiro-sensei). 

Aside from that, there was a lot of physical activity, which he enjoyed. He’d never been a fitness freak, but he liked having the motivation to stay in shape, which he’d not found in the Before (he also hadn’t looked very hard. Maybe he should’ve been a Nara). 

They were taught the Academy taijutsu form, which was different from the one the Uchiha were taught (he knew this because he saw Mohira having the same troubles that he did in adjusting). The Clan kids definitely had a massive advantage, because while they knew where to begin, many of the civilian-born kids had never even held a kunai before, let alone run through a kata.

“You need to widen your stance.” he said blankly to one of the children - Nishitake Momon, he thought it was; the first kid to be introduced on their first day. Momon frowned.

“What?” He said. His feet were positioned awkwardly, far too close together, and there was no sense of balance in his movements. He was just kind of standing.

“If your balance isn’t spread out, you’ll fall if someone pushes you. If you widen your stance, you’ll do better.” Momon continued to frown, looking down at himself, then at Aozen.

“That’s stupid.” Aozen blinked.

“I - what? No it isn’t.” It was common sense.

“Yes it is,” Momon protested. “What do *you* know?” What kind of objection was that?

“I know a lot.” he said flatly, still marginally confused. Couldn’t the kid see what he was talking about?”

“You don’t know nuffin’.” Momon continued to protest, shaking his head. Aozen stared.

“Okay.” he decided to say, and left to find Tojiro-sensei. He approached from behind, as Sensei was watching another student, and tugged on his shirt.

“Yes, Aozen?” Tojiro-sensei turned to look down at him.

“Momon needs help on his form. I tried to tell him, but he won’t listen to me. I don’t know why.”

Tojiro-sensei looked over Aozen, presumably at the aforementioned kid, then back down at him. “Ah. Not to worry, kid. Momon probably just doesn’t want to admit that someone else can know more than he does. I’m sure you only meant to help.” Aozen blinked.

“He’s jealous? Why? He would be better if he just listened.” It seemed very plain to him. Sensei chuckled.

“Some kids are just like that, Aozen. It’s nothing to worry about. I’ll handle him - you can focus on your own katas in the meantime.”

Kids didn’t make any sense. Mohira did, at least, and he seemed to genuinely want to improve. He and Aozen remained good friends throughout the beginning of their Academy days, which extended to ‘play-dates’ inside the Uchiha compound. 

Mohira didn’t have a kaa-san. Aozen speculated that she died in the Second Shinobi World War, but had enough tact not to ask. His tou-san, a nice man named Misaru, seemed to get along well with his parents. Now that they were old enough, the both of them were allowed to attend to the training grounds in their spare time, although they had to be stopped occasionally from going *too* often.

Aozen came home one day (Tou-san had picked him up) to see Kaa-san in the dining room, reading from a scroll. It was not of a kind he’d ever seen before, standard parchment but with faint orange trimming on the edges. He felt Tou-san still next to him when he caught sight of it.

“Tell me that isn’t what I think it is.” Tou-san asked his mother, and she sighed, placing it down on the table.

“I’d prefer not to lie.” She said, and Aozen frowned.

“Is this something I can hear?” he asked, looking between his two parents. Tou-san, with the reminder of his presence, relaxed slightly.

“Yes, Ao-kun, and it’s probably something you *should* hear.” Tou-san said, leading him over to the table. They sat. He looked between them, waiting for one of them to speak first. They exchanged glances, and Kaa-san sighed again.

“I’m being placed back on the active duty roster. That means that I’m going to be sent on missions, sometimes for long periods of time.” Aozen stared, considering.

“You’re leaving?” He asked, and she nodded sadly. “...but you’re not allowed to do that.” He said blankly, as though it were a simple fact. She *wasn’t*. Kaa-san stayed at home and showed him things and cooked for him. Tou-san had been busier, because he’d started his job with the Police Force recently, but even he came home every night, even if it was late.

“I *will* come back, Ao-kun. But as a shinobi, I have a duty to our clan and our village, and that means I have to do what the Hokage assigns me.” Aozen frowned, and felt like pointing out that she had a duty to *him* as her son, but knew enough not to say that, even if he wanted to.

“You’ll come back.” he said, and it was less of a question and more of a statement. Kaa-san smiled at that.

“I will, Ao-kun. I’ll *always* come back.” She said, reaching over to take one of his hands in hers. He nods and looks up at her.

But it wasn’t a fact, was it?

The possibility was very real that his mother wouldn’t return from a mission. Uchiha were almost always combat-proficient if not focused, and though he’d never seen it, he wouldn’t be too surprised if Kaa-san had her Sharingan. She’d be sent on the difficult missions, probably.

Looking up at her, he couldn’t bring himself to say that she knew that might not be true, and instead started forward to hug her. Only moments later, he felt the steady presence of Tou-san behind him, placing a hand on his back.

========================================

“What’s this?” Aozen asked when an unopened scroll was placed in front of him by Kaa-san. 

“This,” began Kaa-san, taking a seat, “is the scroll for a jutsu.” Aozen was instantly attentive, which Kaa-san noticed, judging by the small smirk she sent his way. “In the Uchiha clan, it is considered a rite of passage to be able to perform the Gōkakyū no Jutsu.” Aozen blinked.

Great Fireball.

That… was a whole jutsu. Like, a *whole* jutsu. He knew it was supposed to be a coming of age thing, but he thought that maybe it would be taught after he’d started to learn some of the Academy jutsu. He was quite looking forward to the Kawarimi, for example. 

“You don’t seem as excited as I expected.” Kaa-san said, but she sounded amused.

“I am,” he said truthfully. “It’s just… surprising. I had expected something smaller - like the Henge no Jutsu, or Kawarimi no Jutsu.” What was the Grand Fireball? D-rank? C-rank? It couldn’t be B-ranked, right? Kaa-san’s brow raised.

“You know of the Academy jutsu?” She asked. He nodded slowly, and she exhaled sharply through her nose - Kaa-san never ‘snorted’ when she was amused, but she got close. 

“I should have known you’d read about them,” she continued. “Don’t worry, Ao-kun, I don’t expect to take you to the training grounds and have you attempt it right away.” She reached over to open the scroll, revealing several passages of text and diagrams. Were those -

“These are the hand-seals for the jutsu. Before you even *think* about molding your chakra, you are going to drill these until you’re doing them in your sleep. These seals, among others, will form the foundation of all other jutsu you perform. Do you understand?”

He bobbed his head obediently. More memorization - but, well, he *was* still four. 

...Maybe he could find the instructions for the Academy jutsu somewhere?

“Kaa-san,” he asked a few moments later, “where is the library?” Kaa-san narrowed her eyes at him, and he tensed.

“If you’re trying to find information on new jutsu, don’t even *think* about practicing them on your own, Ao-kun.” She used his name affectionately, but there was a definite undertone of promised reprimand.

“I - I would not do that.” he says, entirely unconvincingly. Kaa-san crinkles her nose at him, knowing full well he was lying.

“Mhm. Regardless, you’ve an assignment to be working on right now. Get to it - I’ll be making dinner. Your father should be home soon, and perhaps you’ll be able to show him your progress.” At that, Aozen perked up, then immediately dove into the jutsu scroll with renewed vigor. 

========================================

The day that Kaa-san left for her first mission was a sad one, and Aozen was not in the least ashamed to have shed a tear (or several). Though he’d always thought the Uchiha were emotionally constipated (as though Sasuke was a typical example), theirs was a fairly heartwarming one, full of hugs and kisses and ‘good luck’s. 

The mission was, of course, hardly a week long, and though he’d disliked the first few days of being alone, his relative mental maturity (which couldn’t seem to make up its mind lately; was he twenty-two or was he four?) let him grow used to it fairly quickly. 

He still didn’t *like* it, but it was a start. At the very least, Tou-san made a cake when she returned. He couldn’t cook normal foods, but for whatever reason he was a phenomenal baker. 

There were more missions, naturally. And on most of those days, Aozen elected to visit the Uchiha training grounds to brush up on his katas and shurikenjutsu, and practice all of his hand seals. 

The training grounds were usually active, because of course most Uchiha would do nothing but train, but on Sundays most of the clan, active shinobi or not, gathered together for… well, it looked almost like a celebration.

Fushima-sama oversaw the entire thing from the porch of the main dojo where he could see the entire field. A man who Aozen was pretty sure was Fugaku started the day sometime before noon by leading everyone in basic katas of the clan’s taijutsu style, the kind that everyone learned when they were able.

Aozen had gotten some weird looks when he’d started alongside them, but he elected to ignore them whenever he went. Tou-san usually watched over him, but sometimes Aozen went of his own volition even when Tou-san had an early patrol. 

That only lasted a few times, but eventually the amount of people talking about the four-year-old performing katas and shurikenjutsu with actually not bad results made him uncomfortable enough to stop unless his dad went with him. 

Mikoni-obaa-sama once said that he “looks just like Hikaku-kun did at that age”, whatever that meant. Fushima-sama had never spoken to him, fortunately, but he was certain he caught the clan head observing him from his seat on the porch more than once.

After general katas, everyone broke off from ‘formation’ for other training, finding new sparring partners or teachers, with the most experienced Uchiha leading small groups or lessons. 

It was, to Aozen’s mind, incredible to witness, because he’d never seen or read anything about this in the ‘canon’ of Before, where his life was just a story. His only true reference point was after the Massacre, of clan politics and malcontent with the village, but…

Everyone there was peaceful. Sure, they were often discussing the best ways to kill people, various techniques of employing genjutsu, ninjutsu, and the like, and many of them were actively trying to kill each other (or at least, looked like they did).

But there was also laughter, and food, and a general sense of community. The elderly folk tended to congregate around Fushima-sama to form cliques of chair-sitting observers, whilst some of the old war dogs would talk amongst themselves. The younger shinobi were tutored by the elder, and spars were had amongst friends, ending with one the victor but both as comrades.

He felt privileged to see it. It reinforced his intense desire to prevent the future tragedy from befalling his clan.

It was boredom that made him attend one Sunday, because if he kept off to the side and just watched, he could easily be mistaken for another one of the children watching about.

Although the really destructive fights were saved for the village’s larger training grounds, there were still plenty of opportunities to see dazzling jutsu used in interesting ways. Most common was Katon, although there were some Raiton and Doton jutsus used every now and again. 

Tou-san had had a late patrol and was sleeping off the effects, whilst Kaa-san was on a mission. In-village, he thought, but a mission nonetheless. 

He watched a spar between two teenaged Uchiha that consisted mostly of taijutsu, but at some point the two separated. There was a tense beat before,

“Katon: Gōkakyū no Jutsu!” one cried, and from his mouth he blew - well, the Grand Fireball, of course. Aozen was fascinated, because while he’d seen it before, he had never been this close (still several dozen metres away, but still) before.

He was too late to mimic it, but he ran through the hand seals for the jutsu anyway, having long since committed them to memory.

“Those are the hand seals for the Gōkakyū no Jutsu, are they not?” came a baritone voice from his left. He jumped, startled, and turned to see - oh. That was Uchiha Fugaku. Uchiha Fugaku who was clearly amused at his reaction.

“I - er, yes, Fugaku-sama.” Aozen managed to say after a few moments to adjust, because he’d the man was not only particularly close, but also should have been visible in his peripheral vision.

Mentally, he scoffed. Shinobi.

Or maybe he was just inattentive.

“Hm. You are Kojuka’s son, are you not?” Fugaku inquired, looking at Aozen with an unreadable look.

Wasn’t this the guy they called… Fearsome Eye Fugaku, or something? Wicked Eye Fugaku? And he was making *prolonged eye-contact* with him?

“Yes, Fugaku-sama.” he said after a beat. Fugaku nodded at that, and looked out amongst the field. 

The spar Aozen had been watching had since ended, the two participants being decent, but not at a high enough level to persist for several minutes. Shinobi duels didn’t last incredibly long, but man were they unbelievably cool to watch.

“Show me the hand-seals for the jutsu, Aozen-san.” Aozen blinked at the relatively formal address (weren’t four-year-olds all supposed to get the ‘-kun’ treatment?) but merely nodded and did as asked.

He’d been practicing the seals for a few months now and, as Kaa-san had said, could almost certainly do them in his sleep. He was proud of the speed, but true to his promise (and out of fear of Kaa-san’s retribution) had not yet tried to actually channel chakra into them.

“Have you performed the jutsu before?” Fugaku continued, still with that placid, unreadable expression.

“No, Fugaku-sama. Kaa-san made me memorize and perform all of the hand-seals before I was allowed to channel chakra.” 

Fugaku seemed to find that amusing, judging by the slight upturning of his lips. “And one must always listen to their Kaa-san, mustn't we?” 

Aozen didn’t quite know what to say to that, so he simply nodded and said, “Very much so, Fugaku-sama.”

“Hm. Well, I will leave you to your observations, Aozen-san.” Fugaku minutely inclined his head before turning, presumably to flit to some other conversation or clan heir business. Aozen had no idea what prompted the short swelling of panic at the sudden farewell, but it was that flare of panic that prompted him to speak.

“I have had them memorized for many months, Fugaku-sama.” He spoke quickly, and Fugaku aborted his motion to turn back to him, a single brow raised. “I -” he halted his speech. “How do I channel chakra?” he asked at last, deciding that because he was four, he had the privilege of being blunt in some respects.

Fugaku gave him a distinctly appraising glance, and Aozen couldn’t help but focus on his forehead rather than his eyes. 

“You believe you’re prepared to mold chakra into a jutsu?” Fugaku asked.

“No,” he answered earnestly. “But I would like to try. And - if you’re here, then you can make sure I do not do anything wrong.” Fugaku looked at him even more intensely at that, for several seconds.

The older-part of him in the back of his mind would perhaps have been inclined to start sweating then, but the four-year-old part of him was simply frustrated at his inability to progress and wanted to learn something cool.

“Alright. Let’s step onto the field.” Fugaku said at last. Aozen was so shocked that it took him a second to follow the older Uchiha forward, and when he did, it was with a smile.

He was going to learn how to use chakra! Maybe! The effort he’d put into *not* trying to use it during meditations or when bored at home was monumental - but now he might even be able to do a jutsu!

“Have you felt your chakra before?” Fugaku began evenly. Aozen nods.

“It feels like - looking at the sky when it’s just rained.” He said, perhaps the most eloquently he could’ve put it at his current stage. Fugaku purses his lips at that, but doesn’t comment.

“Good. You know the purpose of hand-seals; they focus and guide our chakra into the jutsu we wish to perform.” Aozen nodded several times; he knew this. Even though he didn’t know where the public library was, his parents had shown him the clan archives. At least, the parts he was allowed to reach.

“The hand seals do nothing if we are not reaching for our chakra at the same time. I presume you’ve meditated before, so you know what that’s like.” Aozen nodded at that, too. “Think of it like reaching into the energy inside you, allowing it to - hm.” He paused - maybe he was having trouble explaining it to a four-year old?

“It’s okay, Fugaku-sama. You can use big words. I know a lot of them.” he said matter-of-factly. He did. He had been very diligent in expanding his vocabulary, because he liked knowing big words. 

Fugaku found that amusing, smirking slightly. “Alright. Think of it as directing the flow of your chakra through your entire body. The hand seals focus and narrow that energy towards a specific effect.” Okay, he wasn’t actually sure he got *all* of that, but he understood the gist.

“Go through the hand seals slowly. Allow your chakra to flow. The Gōkakyū no Jutsu is exhaled through the mouth, so be sure to inhale in preparation.” Fugaku commanded, and Aozen complied.

He first regulated his breathing like both of his parents had taught him, closing his eyes in the process. It wasn’t second nature to him yet, but it had grown increasingly easy to reach that semi-relaxed state. He imagined it like he did the first time, metaphysically sinking through his body towards the base of his stomach, where his chakra rested.

It seemed to attract him from a distance, like magnetism, clinging to him once he got close enough. It was still staticky, but now felt less like pins-and-needles and more like a kind of buzzing, like the steady hum of a generator. 

His face contorted into a version of his thinking face as he tried to hold onto that feeling. It wasn’t slippery, thankfully, though the buzzing did gentle a little bit as he tried to think about physical things.

The seals were no problem to think up, though: Snake, then Ram, then Monkey, then Boar, then Horse, then Tiger --

He felt a bit of pressure in his chest, and realised he’d forgotten to inhale, so he did just that, and then suddenly exhaled.

His breath felt a little hot, and the buzzing in his head faded. He frowned, which probably looked more like a pout.

Fugaku exhaled sharply through his nose in a manner similar to Kaa-san.

“Close, but not quite. The seals and chakra must be in-tune with your physical movements. Even with the seals, you have to know where the chakra is going, or else it simply builds up without release.” Aozen listened attentively. He thinks he understands. 

It was a multi-step process, and all the parts had to be working together. Kind of like a machine. He wasn’t sure if he could focus that well, but he was absolutely willing to try.

He closes his eyes, reaching for his chakra once more. Having already been touched and primitively channeled, it was easier to find and hold onto this time.

He tried to imagine it like Fugaku-sama said, moving through his body, but this time in time with the seals. The buzzing didn’t decrease in volume this time. Snake, then Ram, then so on, and this time his chest got hotter but he’d already inhaled and -

He breathed out like he was spitting water, and a stream of smoke followed for perhaps half a second before it stopped and he coughed. The smoke dissipated after only a few seconds. Recovering, Aozen stared at the air in front of him.

“I - was that it?” He said, confounded, looking at Fugaku - 

\- who was smiling at him, not bothering to hide his amusement. Aozen didn’t notice the intrigue in his gaze, nor did he notice the other Uchiha who were looking at him from afar.

“It was a start,” he answered. “A good one, considering your current level.” He paused a moment. “Perhaps you shouldn’t continue for today, however. I wouldn’t wish to take this opportunity away from Kojuka or Yuhoki, after all.” At his parent’s names, his eyes widened.

“I should go tell Tou-san!” He almost immediately ran away before remembering that was impolite and turned to the Uchiha. “Thank you, Fugaku-oji-sama!” he rushed the words and the bow that followed it, before turning to hurry back home. 

Tou-san would be so proud! He’d kinda-sorta performed a jutsu!

(he would also be mortified that his son had referred to the clan heir as his uncle, but Fugaku would simply be amused. Aozen was oblivious.)

========================================

Aozen was being moved up not one, but two years in the Academy. It had been a few weeks since he’d almost done the Grand Fireball with Fugaku-oji-sama’s help, and though Tou-san was indeed very proud of him, he was informed that he was absolutely, under no circumstances, allowed to practice jutsu (especially the Gōkakyū) inside the house, or without an adult present.

A small price to pay, really.

He recognised that his display at the training grounds probably had something to do with his sudden advancement, but really, the classes for first-years were easy enough to bore him to tears. With a new class, he’d probably be able to practice jutsu!

Mohira was heartbroken that his only friend would be going away. Aozen’s assurances that they’d still be able to work together at home in the compound were only somewhat mollifying.

Mohira was probably the next smartest in Aozen’s first class, aside from the Nara, but he wasn’t a genius. Then again, neither was Aozen, not really. He just cheated. At heart, Mohira was still a six-year-old boy who knew that Aozen was smart but wasn’t really comfortable with the concept of him leaving.

Aozen was sad because Mohira was sad, but knew he couldn’t really do anything about it. He promised to still train with him at the compound, and to teach him neat things he’d learn in his new class. 

Which brought him to… his new class. His first year class hadn’t been too bad - even if he was definitely younger and a bit smaller than the other kids, it was only by a year or two.

He had, however, jumped *two* years. Which meant that he was still four years old, and most of his new classmates were eight. Double his age. They might even be double his size - he had no idea how tall eight-year-olds were supposed to be. 

========================================

Very tall, apparently. Or at least, very tall compared to him. Being short was frustrating, and something he’d never had a problem with Before, where, although he wasn’t a giant, he was above-average in height.

He also was still four. Ugh. Could he turn five already? Would that fix things? Five was way better than four.

He wasn’t *bullied* per se, but taijutsu lessons were certainly interesting. They had never really sparred in his first year, only gone through some introductory katas and done a bunch of other physical exercises. It seemed that the third year was when they actually started sparring.

Of course, all that meant for Aozen was more bruises in addition to the soreness that normally accompanied training.

He liked to think he held his own, and it wasn’t like he got annihilated in every spar; far from it. The other students had much more training in the academy’s taijutsu style, so he simply had to make up for his weaknesses with his understanding of the Uchiha style.

The superior reach and strength of an eight-year old was difficult to overcome, though. He was just glad he never had to face the Hyuuga student. As had been said before, there was nothing gentle about their Gentle Fist style, even in the early levels of proficiency.

The academic curriculum became more intense. There were actual lessons on chakra theory, as well as more in-depth discussions of the Hidden Villages, which amounted to basically a class for politics. There was a fair bit of propaganda sprinkled in, insofar as Konoha was indisputably the most powerful of all the villages.

They were learning the Art of War and tactics, though only in broad terms. The teachers didn’t wish to scar the children yet, it seemed, because for all that the actual core of the lessons was about becoming a tool for the village, things were framed like stories; the Warring Clans era was but a distant memory, and they focused on exciting confrontations like the famed battles between Uchiha Madara and Senju Hashirama, as well as their brothers, Izuna and Tobirama.

Nevermind that he was pretty sure Fushima-sama had probably been born right at the end of those battles, and that Mikoni-obaa-sama had definitely known Madara and Izuna personally.

Regardless, even with the increased complexity of classes, academics were no trouble for him (nor had they ever been). 

He remained something of an outlier in classes, as most of the other kids saw him as ‘too young’ to be friends with. They largely ignored him, which he was fine with; as long as he could still beat some of them in spars, he didn’t mind it. Being social wasn’t his favorite thing to do anyway. 

The rest of the third year (still technically his first) passed quickly, and right at the end of the year, he turned five. Finally.

Over the summer, he learned that he was being moved up another year. Did this happen with everyone? He thought not. But hey, that’s fine. Not like he was still half of everyone’s age, or anything. Ten year olds instead of nine year olds. 

“Everyone, this is your new classmate, Uchiha Aozen.” His new sensei, a civilian-born shinobi named Motsu Benji, introduced him on the first day. The rest of the class presumably had been yearmates and all knew each other.

Aozen stood at the front, not yet tall enough to see to the back of the classroom. Everyone was giving him curious looks, no doubt wondering why someone so small was in their class. He waved awkwardly.

A head peeked out from one of the rows looking down the aisle, and Aozen blinked to recognise what he thought might’ve been another Uchiha. Short black hair and dark eyes - that fit, right? Said maybe-Uchiha waved and smiled - really *smiled* - at him, and glancing at the others whispering in the room, he went to sit down in an empty seat next to him.

“Hey,” the Uchiha leaned over to speak to him quietly once the lesson began. “I’m Uchiha Shisui. What’s your name?” Aozen stared at him.

“You - you’re Shisui?” he said blankly.

“Uh, yeah. Have we met? Sorry if I don’t remember.” Shisui - *Shisui no Shunshin*, best friend of Itachi - smiled and sheepishly reached up to rub his neck. 

“Uh, no, sorry. I’m - Uchiha Aozen. But you -” already knew that. “Hey, you’re almost as small as me.” Aozen realised suddenly. He’d gotten used to the ‘inverted sore thumb’, wherein he was noticeably shorter than everyone else around him, and a quick glance around showed that Shisui suffered from the same effect, albeit less obvious.

Shisui flashed another sheepish smile. “Yeah. I’m seven, I entered the Academy early. Did you?”

“Yes. I am five.” Aozen states.

“Woah! That’s -” they were interrupted by Benji-sensei clearing his throat.

“Aozen, Shisui. Was there a conversation you wished to share about the lesson?” He said sternly. Both of them snapped to formal posture in their seats.

“No, Benji-sensei.” They both chorused. Sensei raised a brow but nodded, and went back to his speech.

Shisui shot him a smile, but with Sensei’s eyes on them, neither of them dared to talk out of turn again.

He was in the same class as Uchiha Shisui. A seven year old Shisui. Shisui who was evidently a genius - not a genius like him, an actual one, certified, with all the bows and ribbons. 

Maybe that was a good thing? If he became friends with Shisui, he would eventually be able to meet Itachi, and he’d already made an (entirely unintentional) connection with Fugaku. 

And plus, maybe with Shisui as a friend, he’d have someone to talk to. An actual genius was probably on or near the level of a mentally-eighteen year old, right? He liked Mohira, but the boy was six, even if he was smart. 

He missed conversations with his old friends, if only because they were his own age and very similar to him. He hadn’t had a regular conversation in a long time.

Five years, really.

========================================

Shisui was actually pretty great. He’d entered the Academy at five, but had been moved up a year very quickly, finished, and then was promptly moved up another year. He finished most of that year, and then was moved up two more years towards the end of his class, very similar to himself.

Evidently, Shisui *was* a social butterfly, but Aozen had been the only one willing to talk to him. Prodigies had to stick together, apparently.

It was clear that Shisui had some growing to do, but the difference in conversation between him and one of his peers was stark and telling, and certainly enjoyable. Shisui was clearly kind and upbeat, and steadily so. Most of the other Uchiha he’d seen had been somewhere on the scale of formality (usually towards the top) but Shisui didn’t seem to care much.

Aozen tried to stay in touch with Mohira, but it was hard when every visit became something akin to a tutoring session. Not that Aozen minded teaching him things (he’d wanted to be a teacher in the Before) but Shisui was a refreshing change of pace in that they were much closer to equals, if not yet there.

Aozen performed the Grand Fireball jutsu fully and properly at long last with Shisui’s help. As it turned out, Shisui had learned the technique a year ago, and having someone who knew precisely what it was like to struggle with the full technique in the beginning added a lot to the learning process.

There’d been no ceremony involved, as the performance of the jutsu was only an unofficial rite of passage, but his parents had been ecstatic.

It was around that time that Fushima-sama invited him and his parents to dinner.

It seems that his parents were prepared for this, because they presented him with a hakama that they’d recently bought. He had no frame of reference, but it was pretty nice. The top was blood-red, with the uchiwa emblazoned on the back, whilst the pants were the standard black. It was fairly plain in that regard, though it made sense not to spend too much money on something that Aozen would undoubtedly only outgrow.

His father dressed similarly, although his top was patterned and dark-blue. Kaa-san dressed in a pretty maroon kimono, patterned in plain flowers. They had made it very clear that to have dinner with the clan head was an important honor, and that he was to be on his best behavior.

Pft. As if he didn’t know how to *behave*. His parents had taught him by example how to have a proper formal Japanese dinner. Or, in this case, Konohan dinner. Plus, he was five, prodigy or not, so people would probably excuse any mistakes he made.

An unfamiliar woman answered the door when both of them arrived. The first thing he noticed is that she was *really* pretty, with thick black hair done up in an elaborate style. The second thing he noticed is that she was clearly pregnant. 

“Mikoto-sama,” Tou-san greeted, and both of his parents bowed their heads. Aozen quickly followed their example.

“Kojuka-san. Yuhoki-san.” Mikoto (!!) greets pleasantly, smiling prettily. She probably did most things that way, though. “It is a pleasure to receive you. Please, come inside.” She shifted away from the door frame to allow them entrance. 

“It is a pleasure to have been invited, Mikoto-sama.” Kaa-san responded just as pleasantly. 

“Please, come this way. The food is almost ready.” Mikoto-sama led the way, moving through the house with a grace he didn’t know a pregnant woman could muster. Drudging up what little he knew about pregnancies, he judged her to be probably halfway through the process; at least to the point most ordinary women would be waddling. She simply… glided, though. It was cool.

The clan head’s house was big, the biggest in the compound, but even so it didn’t take them long to get to the dining room.

Fushima-sama was already inside, sitting at the far end at the kamiza, the seat of ‘honor’. Fugaku-oji-sama sat to his left. He and Fugaku hadn’t really talked much since the man taught him how to channel chakra several months ago, but Aozen still admired him for it.

“Kojuka-san, Yuhoki-san. Aozen-kun.” greeted Fushima-sama, and it was the first time Aozen had heard him speak up close. The head of the Uchiha clan was old, enough for liver spots to have begun appearing around his face. 

His eyes appear to have attained a permanent semi-squint, resulting in the crow’s feet beneath them becoming more pronounced. He had a small scar along his cheek and looked to be freshly shaven - but then, the same could also be said for Fugaku, and he didn’t think he’d ever seen an Uchiha with facial hair.

“Fushima-sama,” greeted Tou-san with a small smile - one of his real ones, Aozen noted. Mikoto went to take a seat next to her husband.

“Come, sit.” The man gestured, and the three of them obliged. Tou-san sat closest to Fushima-sama, across from Fugaku-oji-sama, whilst Kaa-san sat across from Mikoto-sama, and he was left furthest away.

A Uchiha woman younger than Mikoto-sama came in with a tray of food, followed by another with another tray. They quickly set up the dishes, which were quite an array of delicious looking food. He didn’t know if it would beat Kaa-san’s cooking, but he thought he’d enjoy it nonetheless. Drinks were poured; probably sake for the adults, but he only got water.

Once it was all set out, the five of them mutually looked to Fushima-sama, who nodded.

“Itadakimasu,” Aozen said quietly, but in the silence of the room was heard easily. Apparently that wasn’t something one said in a formal setting, because no one repeated it, and he thought he heard Kaa-san sigh very slightly. 

“He is as polite as you said, Fukagu.” Fushima-sama said, sounding amused. Aozen felt his cheeks blush and quickly went about eating his first dish, not looking at anyone else. Fugaku had mentioned him?

His parents and the clan head’s family exchanged pleasantries for the beginning of the meal, commenting on simple observations from the clan’s training days (Sundays), the state of the Police Force, and how everyone’s lives were going. Fugaku and Tou-san seemed to be familiar with each other. At one point, Kaa-san asked about how Mikoto’s pregnancy was going. Apparently, she was having a boy.

“What are you naming him?” Aozen asked suddenly. Kaa-san glanced at him in surprise, because he’d been completely quiet thus far. Mikoto-sama merely looked at him, apparently pleased to be talking about her soon-to-be son.

“We have not decided, but I am fond of the name ‘Itachi’.” Aozen blinked. Of course it was Itachi. The timeline was about right, and it certainly wasn’t going to be Sasuke, unless his arrival had somehow messed up things so badly children were being born in reverse.

Eugh. What if Itachi was born, but called Sasuke? And Sasuke was named Itachi? His poor brain would never be able to keep up.

“That’s a nice name.” He commented neutrally, because it was. He’d always liked the name, even if it was generally associated with a clan-killer. 

Mikoto-sama smiled. “Thank you.”

“How are your studies going, Aozen-kun?” Fushima-sama spoke up.

“Very well, Fushima-sama. I am in year five now.” He paused. “I’m in the same class as Shisui.” he said, because he felt that was important. Fushima-sama raised a brow and glanced at Fugaku-oji-sama, who merely offers the smallest of shrugs.

“Your wayward nephew, Fugaku.” Both Kagami-san and Hikaku-sama would be proud, I am certain.” Aozen minutely frowns, and glances at his parents. He knew of the name Kagami from his metaknowledge, but this wasn’t the first time he’d heard the name ‘Hikaku’, ostensibly in reference to him.

“Fushima-sama,” he begins, “who is - Hikaku-sama? Mikoni-obaa-sama says I look like him.” He can feel Kaa-chan stiffen up beside him, and he wonders if he asked the wrong question.

Fushima-sama raises his eyebrow again, and looks at his parents. “You have not told the boy of his lineage?” He tuts. He doesn’t give either of them time to respond when he looks back at Aozen. “Hikaku-sama is your father’s grandfather. He was one of Madara-sama’s finest commanders, among the strongest of them, and one of the final casualties of the conflict between our clan and the Senju.” Fushima-sama was too in control of himself to let his tone be anything but calm, but Aozen wouldn’t be surprised if there was bitterness behind that statement. Fushima-sama was old enough to remember those times, if only as a child.

“Oh.” he said, looking between all of the adults present. “He - sounds - nice.” He says, words halting because he wasn’t sure what to say. ‘Nice’ was his default descriptor in these kinds of situations.

Fushima-sama barks out a short laugh. “I don’t know that he was ‘nice’. But he was a fine Uchiha.” He looks at his parents, who seem to relax a little when Fushima-sama laughs. 

“...then I am glad to be descended from him.” he says a moment later, because that sounded appropriate. 

Fushima-sama ‘hrmph’d. “One should hope so.” he says evenly, and goes back to eating.

The somewhat tense (more awkward, really) moment passed, everyone went back to finishing their food, and small-talk continued until the meal was finished. At which point, Fushima-sama decided to speak again.

“Aozen-kun. Before you leave, come walk with me in the gardens.” He said, grunting as he suddenly stood. Aozen blinked in surprise, looking to his parents. They both seemed equally caught off-guard, but Kaa-san looked at him to offer a nod.

“Of course, Fushima-sama.” he stands, and rounds the table to follow the clan head, having no idea what he’d somehow gotten himself into. 

The elder Uchiha led him through a set of sliding doors onto a porch, and then continued out into the well-kept gardens of the clan house. It was nearing sunset, with the sun providing just enough light to paint the sky a pale orange, casting a beautiful light. 

Once upon the groomed path which winded its way through the gardens, Fushima-sama seemed content to adopt a much slower pace one would ordinarily expect of someone of advanced age, though he was quite certain the man could move much faster. One didn’t get to his age in the shinobi world without reason, after all.

Suddenly, the man lets out a hacking cough, surprising Aozen. The cough continues for several seconds before he clears his throat, shaking his head.

“Are - are you okay, Fushima-sama?” He asks hesitantly. The man waves a hand.

“Yes, fine. Simply a consequence of growing old.” the man mutters, and *here* was the bitterness he’d not shown earlier. He recovered quickly. “Do you know why I asked your family to dinner, Aozen-kun?” 

Aozen considered this for several moments, recognising the change in tone and the fact that it was only the two of them. Maybe some Uchiha guards that he hadn’t the ability to sense, too, but that was beside the point. 

“Is there a specific answer you’re looking for, Fushima-sama?” he decided to say. The man leveled him an unreadable look.

“How many did you have in mind?” he responds.

“...two. One that I think is the truth, and another that I think could be if you wanted it to be.” He says earnestly. They continue in their slow, shambling walk through the gardens.

“Tell me what you believe to be the truth.” he says.

“Okay. You wanted to see what I was like, because I am half the age of anyone in my year at the Academy.” he says earnestly. He avoids saying the word ‘prodigy’, because it feels like a lie.

Fushima-sama smiles minutely at that. “Indeed, more or less. As clan head, it’s my duty to take an interest in the next generation of Uchiha. You and Shisui-kun are among the most promising of them.” Aozen doesn’t look at him, because he is uncomfortable with compliments. Instead, he thinks.

“You did not invite Shisui to dinner.” he points out.

“What’s to say I haven’t already?” Fushima-sama counters, and Aozen frowns. “Hmph. Mikoto is practically raising the boy in absence of his parents, so I see him often enough around the house.” Aozen blinks several times at that, surprised.

He had forgotten that Shisui didn’t have parents. Didn’t realise, more accurately, because it was one of those tidbits he’d known in the back of his head, but hadn’t brought to his conscious thoughts. Talking with Shisui as a seven year old, as a conscious, thinking person, and moreover, different from the person Aozen knew he could become, was far removed from thinking of him as a character, as someone he’d read about in another life.

Fushima-sama mercifully doesn’t comment on his surprise, which he no doubt sensed. “Fugaku tells me that you have performed the Gōkakyū no Jutsu.” Aozen nods.

“Fugaku-oji-sama helped me get started, so that I could channel chakra. Shisui helped me through the technique. It’s - tiring.” He may be one of the few (only?) five year olds who can perform a C-rank jutsu, but that doesn’t mean he has the chakra capacity to do it more than once, and not very big.

Fushima-sama chuckles. “He told me of this, too. Is that why you res ‘oji-sama’?” Aozen has the grace to blush at that.

“I - yes. He helped me, and he was nice.” It was weak reasoning, but… well, it was all he had. Fugaku-oji-sama *was* nice, and he had never seemed angry when Aozen called him that.

“And what of me? Am I ‘nice’?” the elder questions amusedly. Aozen considers.

“Yes.” he decides after a few moments. He looks up at him. “...if you want, you can be Fushima-ojii-sama¹.”

Fushima-sama barks a laugh at that. “How gracious of you. Very well, since you offered, I will accept.” Aozen isn’t quite sure why it’s so funny, but it works out. 

“...okay, Fushima-ojii-sama.” he says, shrugging. 

“Come, Aozen-kun,” Fushima-ojii-sama says, clearly still amused, “we should return you to your parents for the night. You’ve indulged an old man enough.”

And so they did. It was, Aozen thinks, pretty… nice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ¹ = I have no idea if the pronunciation between -oji and -ojii differs, but I'm assuming it does, so that there's an actual distinction between the two terms. i do not speak Japanese, so my apologies if i get something wrong  
> * = the asterisk around a word or phrase means it's effectively italicized, i just cba to go about the HTML for italics. pronounce those words/phrases like they're emphasised
> 
> anywho, yooooo day 3 or something and another chapter already out. how cool is that?
> 
> don't get used to it lol.
> 
> so, yeah. i don't have a plan for this except vaguely and in my head, i'm writing it as it comes along. like, i had absolutely no intention of Fugaku showing Aozen how to channel chakra, just kinda... happened. the dinner and subsequent conversation with Fushima is also something i thought of only a few hours ago. coincidentally, as is shisui - you know what, you get it, my point is, none of this is planned
> 
> i'm hoping to distinguish the clear difference between 'adult' Aozen (the eighteen-year-old who knows that he's in the world of a story and has some limited meta knowledge) and the five-year-old semi-prodigy Aozen who is influenced by his past self's intelligence but is, ultimately, a child. that's why sometimes the thoughts can get real deep and are acknowledged as such, but then Aozen goes and immediately calls Fugaku his honorary uncle because the man spoke nicely to him once.
> 
> in case you didn't read the tags, i have no idea how to write children. i don't know how five year olds talk. lmao.
> 
> as ever, leave a comment if you enjoy, i really really delight in reading them.
> 
> cheers!
> 
> ~ylri


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> shorter chapter here, ~4k words compared to the other two's ~7k.
> 
> but it's got some (i think) neat dialogue and character building between peeps, and i'm kinda fond of it. it's helping me get in the groove of all these characters and such-like.
> 
> anyway, same as norm: read and comment as you like, i hope you enjoy
> 
> cheers!  
> ~ylri

“Hey Shisui,” Aozen began. The both of them were splayed out on the ground, beneath the shade of a tree that watched over one corner of the Uchiha training grounds. Aozen was leaning against said tree, but Shisui was laying down next to him, eyes closed.

“Yeah?” he responded without opening his eyes.

“How come… how come you never take me to your house?” He asked, trying to be delicate. 

They’d just finished a light spar and a friendly shurikenjutsu competition (some of the other Uchiha had even participated) and were now taking a short break. The plan was to practice hand-seals and the jutsu they knew after they were done.

Shisui sighed. “I guess someone told you, huh?” He hadn’t moved.

“Told me what?” Aozen returned hesitantly, fairly sure he knew what Shisui was referring to.

“That I’m an orphan.” Shisui grumbled.

“I’m not - that is, Fushima-ojii-sama told me. If you don’t want to tell me, that’s okay.” Maybe once upon a time Aozen had had tact, but he certainly didn’t then. He fidgeted with his hands in his lap.

Shisui sighed again, and sat up. Shisui was normally so carefree and bright that it was disconcerting to see the veritable cloud hanging over him. He shifted to be leaning against the tree, adjacent to Aozen.

“My parents died at the end of the Second Shinobi War. Kaa-san was friends with Mikoto-oba-san, and so she took care of me for a long time.”

“Fushima-ojii-sama said that you were almost living there.”

“...yeah. My house… technically belongs to me, I guess. I don’t have any other family. I’ve been staying there more often so I’m not a burden to Mikoto-oba-san.” Aozen frowns.

“I’m sorry.” he decides to say. Shisui doesn’t sigh again, but he might as well have.

“Yeah. People usually are.” Aozen barely manages to resist a wince, still fidgeting. “...sorry, that was rude.”

“No, it’s alright,” he hurries to say. “I just… don’t know what that’s like. I wish I could be more empathetic.” He could only imagine, really. Shisui was always so kind, so upbeat, that it was impossible for someone to guess at a glance that he was hiding something like… well, that.

Shisui didn’t respond at first. Then, “Don’t. I don’t need empathy, I just…” he sighs. “You’re a good friend. I mean, I know you’re like me,” in that they were both irregular prodigies, “but you’ve never hesitated to treat me as me, instead of some… expectation.” Surprisingly deep sentiments for a seven year old; the curse of intelligence.

“Thanks,” Aozen responds, still fidgeting. “It’s nice to be able to be yourself. You’re a good friend, too.”

At last, Aozen heard something of Shisui’s smile in his voice. “Thanks, Azo.” ‘Shisui’ didn’t lend itself to any easy nicknames, but Shisui had started calling Aozen ‘Azo’ (Ay-zoh) almost immediately. He was fond of it, personally. 

“You know -” Aozen started, again a bit hesitant, “if you ever didn’t want to sleep at your house, you can always stay over at mine. Kaa-san and Tou-san both like you, and I’m pretty sure sleepovers are something that normal kids do.”

Shisui laughed brightly, the sound driving the dark cloud from only a minute ago away. “That sounds like fun. I’ll think about it. In the meantime, I convinced the Chuunin to let me look at a jutsu scroll - it’s called the Shunshin.” Aozen glanced over to see Shisui’s eyes alight, no hint of the earlier darkness in them. 

He couldn’t help but grin in return, especially wondering if *this* was how his journey to being the fastest shinobi short of Minato began.

“Tell me everything.”

========================================

Aozen turned six just after graduation from Year 5. Tou-san baked him a cake, Kaa-san made his favorite meal (oden and miso ramen), and there was a small party. Well, relatively ‘small’; it seems, like his second birthday, that this was a cause for others in the clan to be invited over to their increasingly cramped home.

Aozen was getting used to playing up his childness to lower people’s expectations in conversation, so that he wasn’t stuck talking to… anyone, really. He ducked out at one point in the night to sneak away with Shisui and Mohira and play ninja without parental oversight in the compound.

Of course, when both of his parents are shinobi, ‘playing ninja’ becomes ‘hide-and-seek’ very quickly, and then a really intense game of tag where the losers have to do chores. 

(The kids lose, everytime)

Shisui and Aozen didn’t dare attempt the Shunshin mainly because it would mean leaving Mohira behind (and Konoha shinobi never left comrades behind), but also because they’d been trying the D-rank jutsu on and off for weeks with varied success.

As it turns out, channeling chakra into one’s legs in an attempt to move quickly was fairly easy to mess up. Shisui had more success with it than Aozen (go figure) but their best efforts still only amounted to a dozen metres’ distance and a bit of stumbling. Their worst involved almost-broken noses, and Kaa-san giving very stern lectures to the both of them as she patched up their scrapes and bruises.

A few weeks after his birthday, he came home from a regular morning of training.

“Ao-kun?” came his dad’s voice from the kitchen. Aozen frowned.

“Tou-san?” he called back. “Weren’t you on patrol?”

“I got off early. Come in here and look at this!” Aozen shrugged to himself and set his bag of training supplies off to the side, to be returned to his room later. 

He went into the kitchen to find his Tou-san inspecting what looked to be a bonsai tree. Aozen had never actually seen one in person before in either of his lives. Tou-san looked to him as he entered, smiling broadly in general happiness. Around him were some tools - not shinobi tools, but what looks like gardening tools: clippers, a small hand shovel, a bottle of some unfamiliar amber liquid.

“What do you think?” Tou-san placed his hands on his hips, looking between Aozen and the tree.

“It looks pretty,” Aozen said earnestly, “but I don’t know anything about bonsai trees.” 

“Aha!” Tou-san lit up, more animated than Ao had ever seen him. “But you know it’s bonsai. This is a Juniper tree. Grab some chairs and bring them in here.” Confused but intrigued, Aozen complied. Sitting down, Tou-san seemed a bit calmer, but still veritably buzzing.

“Where did you get this?” Aozen asked.

“I was on patrol earlier when a caravan from the Land of Iron came through the market district. I saw that they had this, and it looked neglected. I had to get it - and luckily, Fugaku let me off early since it’s been a slow morning.” Aozen blinked.

“Neglected? But - it looks fine.” Everything was pretty much green, and it seemed like… well, bonsai. Curved trunk, and stuff. He’d always liked the aesthetic of bonsai trees.

Tou-san merely chuckled. “When I was a boy, still in the Academy, my kaa-san - your obaa-san - started teaching me about the art of bonsai.” Tou-san was looking at the bonsai tree, turning it around and fiddling with the orientation of some of the branches. Aozen listened attentively; he’d never heard much about his grandparents on either side.

“Kaa-san was a civilian, but tou-san loved her very much. Tou-san taught me many things about being a good shinobi, but it was my kaa-san who taught me how to be a good person, and that began with the art of bonsai. Now, I think it’s time for me to pass down some of those lessons to you.”

“Really?” Aozen was smiling. “That - that sounds cool!” Moreover, it sounded special. Sacred. A family tradition, and he was just now being let in on it; he’d never really had any family traditions before. Tou-san was smiling right back. 

“Let’s start off. There are many different styles of bonsai - this one is a moyogi style tree. A curved, upward trunk. The first thing one does when presented with a bonsai tree is figure out which side is the front…” and on it went. 

As Tou-san explained, Aozen listened in rapt fascination. On the surface, bonsai was simply another kind of gardening, but it required a lot of attention to detail, aesthetics, and maintenance. Together, he and Tou-san discussed all the different possible design options, and what would be required for each one.

Once decided, Tou-san began pointing out just what qualified this juniper as ‘neglected’. The roots were flared and open to view, as though it were slightly uprooted. There were some dead branches, and a layer of dead bark in some places. One of the branches of the tree hung out too far backwards, which Tou-san said would weigh down the tree and was probably one of the reasons for the root being so exposed. 

There were some small weeds in the tree’s pot, which Tou-san pulled. He pointed out how some of the lower branches were competing for light, which wasn’t healthy, and went on to explain the difference between mature versus immature branch structure.

Using his clippers and explaining as he went, he pruned the excess and unhealthy parts that were immediately obvious. He left some deadwood behind in places, emphasising that much of the bonsai was about the aesthetic.

“My kaa-san had a lesson for everything, and all of it could be equated to bonsai,” his Tou-san told him. “With the branches, we saw that some of them affected the tree negatively. Not all growth is positive. Despite this, we clean up this deadwood and leave a little bit behind, because it contributes to the overall appearance of the bonsai. Just because something is considered ‘bad’, does not mean it has to be.” 

Aozen absorbed the information like a sponge, paying more attention than he ever had in any Academy lesson. He resolved to write down his Tou-san’s words later, so he could come back to them whenever he was in a deep thinking mood.

“And even so…” he said, breaking off a branch, “when we see what it is that is holding us back, we fix it by removing it. Sometimes, this is the only way.” Aozen considered this as his Tou-san continued.

“Now comes the boring part.” Tou-san removed what looked like a scalpel from a small pouch. “Removing the dead bark.”

Tou-san showed him the proper technique for doing so and what to look for, whilst Aozen felt like he should be making notes. Despite that feeling, he was absolutely certain that he’d never forget a second of this.

Finding the dead bark was relatively simple, and from there they moved onto removing the actual dead tissue of the tree. He was shown the difference between the white, living tissue and the faded dead tissue as Tou-san gave him a scalpel and allowed him to diligently scrape away, pointing out spots for him. 

“To care for a bonsai is to be patient, my kaa-san always told me. I was never as good of a student as you, so I was a little more restless.” Tou-san chuckled, and Aozen laughed along with him.

It wasn’t arduous so much as it was tedious, but Aozen was determined to dedicate himself to the task because… well, it was peaceful. Calming. It took a long time, sure, but in that time there was only him, his father, and his task of scraping away at the bonsai. 

Tou-san went on to apply what he called ‘lime sulphur’ to the now-exposed parts of the tree, explaining that this would keep the tree’s tissue healthy and preserve it. That, too, was delicate work, using a small brush on tiny branches and limbs, whilst dealing with the aroma. Lime sulphur stank.

“Now, we set it here and let it dry. Tomorrow, we can go back to work on it. Apply the wire and get it on the way towards its final shape.”

“How long will that take?” Aozen asked, curious.

Tou-san cast him a knowing glance. “Applying the wire itself will take a couple hours, and from there the wires will stay on for a year or two until the branches have set.” Aozen gawped and Tou-san laughed. “Trees can live for hundreds of years, you know. They’re not like you children, who sprout like weeds.” Tou-san patted his head.

“That’s - that just seems like a long time. A lot of waiting.” Aozen resisted the urge to pout. He wasn’t *impatient*, necessarily, but he generally liked to see the results of his efforts not soon after the effort was actually put forth.

“Patience, Ao-kun,” Tou-san said, and then laughed even louder at the withering glare Aozen shot his way (which, for a six-year old, was probably just cute instead of debilitating). He reached forward to ruffle Aozen’s hair again, and though he tried, Aozen couldn’t help but laugh back. 

It was a very good day.

========================================

From his vantage point on a tree branch thick enough to allow him to comfortably sit, Aozen pondered the Uchiha training on the field without really seeing them. He was in one of his thinking moods, you see; having just gotten a grasp on the tree-walking exercise after a few hours of frustrating but ultimately fruitful practice, he thought he deserved a break.

He’d be graduating soon, he thought. They were into the new year, the middle of March, with only a few months left in the school year, and then he’d be…

What? A genin? Well, hopefully. He didn’t know what it was to ‘master’ a jutsu, even the Academy Three, but he was as proficient with them as he could be at his level. His Grand Fireball was now of consistent size (not very big, but he was pretty sure his chakra capacity needed work for that) and form, and he’d been working on his chakra control in order to make further progress on the Shunshin.

His marksmanship scores with shuriken and kunai were above-average at the least (he was too humble to admit, but the only person who had better scores in his year was Shisui, and only by a narrow margin), he had the highest ratings in taijutsu (even besting the Hyuuga), and, in light of his recent training, probably had better chakra control than most academy students. 

His academic scores were a non-issue, and he didn’t think it was boastful to say it took little effort to remain at the top position in his class (again, only because he was technically cheating). 

He had no idea who his sensei would be. Would it be possible that one of the Sannin would take a team (or another one, in Jiraiya’s case)? What about Minato? Or perhaps he would be treated like a normal genin (which wasn’t that bad of a thought at all) and put on a team with a normal Jounin. 

The only prominent Jounin he really knew of was the original Ino-Shika-Cho trio, and he had no memory of them taking a genin team in canon. 

He sighed. It wasn’t useless to speculate, but he had so little information to go on that he doubted he’d reach any kind of reliable conclusion.

Regardless, once he had a sensei, he would hopefully be able to make actual strides towards specialization.

Which brought up another point: what *was* his specialization? What did he want to learn?

The Uchiha propensity for genjutsu sprang to mind. He knew how to spot basic ones and dispel them, but the Academy didn’t teach their students how to *cast* one. Probably a good idea, although it’d be interesting to see what an imaginative student could come up with.

He didn’t have a Sharingan though, and as of yet, he didn’t have any plans for getting one. The experience sounded rather painful, honestly, and though the whole ‘see chakra and copy jutsu’ thing sounded really nice, the ‘traumatic experience with bleeding eyes’ thing kind of didn’t.

He could still learn it without the Sharingan, though, and he thought that was definitely worthwhile.

He’d always pictured himself as a frontline fighter. He had never been one for stealth, and it probably would’ve been worthwhile to start already if he wanted to specialize in assassination. 

He *really* wants to learn kenjutsu. It may be born of a boyhood fascination with swords, but he’d actually done really well in their introductory lessons during Year 5 and further in 6. 

Kunai and shuriken and ninja wire were all well and good, but something about a sword just seemed powerful to him. Combined with a ninja’s speed…

He was fairly certain his chakra nature was Lightning. All of their lessons on chakra theory stated that one’s chakra nature and the ‘feel’ of one’s chakra often reflected one another, and he didn’t know what to associate ‘staticky yet energetic’ with except for lightning.

A lightning affinity and a sword sounded pretty damn cool. Not just cool, but useful. In his past life, he’d thought about what elemental magic would be like (he’d been a writer in his spare time, if you’ll recall).

Wouldn’t it theoretically be possible, if one’s chakra control was fine enough, to send enough electricity into someone’s body such that their heart would stop? Or even just a heart attack - or to cause muscle contractions, or to paralyze someone. Shaking hands with someone could mean death.

The fact that no one had done it yet probably meant that it was inordinately difficult. 

What about fuuinjutsu? There were three sealing masters he knew of still alive, and all three were, at the moment, fairly unreachable. His only sealing experience was with basic storage and explosive tags, and some manipulations therein. 

Seals had an incredible amount of utility, though, and were really only limited in application by the ingenuity of their creator. 

If Minato’s hiraishin had been made commercially available in a place that *wasn’t* characterized by excessive amounts of war, violence, and incredibly powerful people, it might revolutionise industry. Caravans would be unnecessary, because goods could be transferred in an instant. Bandits would be a concern of the past for the same reason. Quick and instant communication between villages across the continent would become a reality.

...but Minato only used it to win a war.

Not that Aozen could blame him. The key phrase there was ‘war, violence, and incredibly powerful people’. If the seal was used in those fashions, then you would have people as fast as Minato everywhere, even if they weren’t as skilled. Teleporting ninjas with Stockholm syndrome for their respective villages. 

He sighed mentally. It was certainly safer to restrict one’s thoughts to the life one was almost guaranteed to live. The fact that Madara saw casting a genjutsu on the entire world the only way to achieve true peace was - well, outrageous, but telling.

Even in the canon, after the Otsutsuki’s had been defeated, it was mainly Naruto’s incredible power which guaranteed the other country’s compliance and peace. 

Power, and in some form, fear, in the Elemental Nations, seemed to be the most effective motivator. But was it the only one? It bore thought. He had no idea what hand he’d have in events to come. He could die on his first mission.

What kind of shinobi was he going to be?

Pacifists didn’t really survive in this world unless they had the strength to defend their ideals nonlethally. If there was one thing he’d learned from the Academy, it was that humans are unbelievably easy to kill. Each shinobi had the strength to send a senbon, a *tiny needle*, into the heart of another shinobi, or stab a kunai into the base of their spine, or punch them hard enough to collapse their windpipe, or even brain damage; you get the point.

Needless to say, Aozen, six years old and not yet graduated from the Academy, was not quite powerful enough to be a pacifist (a statement which was boggling in its irony). 

And yet… he didn’t know how he felt about killing. 

It was easy to say a multitude of things about killing: that you would never do it, that you could do it easily, that it wouldn’t bother you if you killed only enemies; the fact is, no one knows until they do it. Aozen had never killed before. It was almost a certainty that, should the war begin and he makes it to genin, he will have to kill out of necessity.

Was there something he was *supposed* to feel about that? Should he feel comfortable about it, because it’s an inevitability? Should he resign himself to it? Was it already justified - because he couldn’t see himself killing a fellow Konohan, and the situation would almost certainly be self defense?

Another sigh, aloud this time. As Shikamaru would put it -

“Troublesome,” he murmured. 

He supposed the easiest way to think about it is that he has no way of knowing or contemplating the truth until he has experienced it, which includes war. He can already see his preconceived notions of morality, born of a world without widespread war which has experienced true peace, coming into conflict with this one.

But, it’s where he’s living, so he must live.

The path forward will clearly not be simple, let alone easy, but he’s already begun making changes. By virtue of proximity, he’s garnered attention from both Fushima-ojii-sama (who he still isn’t sure existed or was named in canon) and Fugaku-oji-sama (who he had thought was supposed to be a hardass, but as it turns out is pretty nice, if intimidating). He’s in a position to influence them both, and through them, the fate of the clan.

Perhaps that may be all that’s needed to change things for the better, but he suspects not. The biggest factor is Obito, who will probably be entering the Academy soon… which is a mildly alarming thought. Maybe he’d have to look out for the mission to Kannabi bridge, since that was supposedly where everything went downhill.

After Obito and the clan, the next biggest point of contention would be the next Hokage. If Obito doesn’t ‘die’, then Minato and Kushina will have no issues surrounding Naruto’s birth, and Minato never has to die to seal Kurama.

He wonders if Orochimaru would still leave the village. Actually, he wonders *when* Orochimaru leaves the village. After the next war, presumably. Aozen had always assumed that losing the hat to Minato was the final straw, and without anything connecting him to -

Oh. There was Danzo, wasn’t there?

Danzo was almost certainly going to be a problem. He groaned and leaned his head back against the trunk of his tree.

“Thinking too hard, Ao-kun?”

Aozen started and nearly fell out of the tree at the distinctive voice of his mother coming from his left. He looked over after he recovered and, sure enough, she was standing there in her mission fatigues - not, he noted with some satisfaction, in any state of injury.

“Kaa-san!” He cried, both in consternation and happiness at her sudden arrival. “You’re back! Please don’t scare me like that again, I could fall and die.”

Kaa-san looked at him and her mouth twitched upward; the real amusement was in her eyes, which danced with mirth. She pursed her lips.

“Shinobi don’t fall. They -”

“- make emergency controlled descents. That still doesn’t change the fact that you tripped on the front steps.” He stuck out his tongue at her, referring to an 'incident' a few weeks ago. She sniffed, affecting to be unbothered.

“I was coming home from a mission late at night and I was tired.” They stared at each other a moment before Aozen giggled and Kaa-san smiled. He jumped from his branch to hers, and she caught him, wrapping him up in a hug.

“Missed you.” He murmured into her vest, and she squeezed him.

“Missed you too.” She responded, then let him go. He shuffled back on the tree limb they were balanced on. Their tree, like so many others in Konoha, was a Hashirama tree, albeit one of the smaller ones. It supported both of them easily.

“What were you thinking about?” Kaa-san asked once they’d settled. Aozen resisted the urge to sigh.

“Nothing nice.” he responded earnestly.

“Sometimes those are the things that need *talking* about, instead of just thinking about. Do you want to talk about it?” Kaa-san inquired gently. Aozen considered for several moments.

“What… is your attitude about killing?” Aozen decided to voice his thoughts, looking over at her. Kaa-san made an ‘ah’ noise and leaned back against the tree. She looked more casual than Aozen regularly saw; of the two of his parents, Kaa-san was far more in line with the Uchiha notions of grace, poise, and decorum than Tou-san. 

Rather than dissuade him from a clearly uncomfortable topic, Kaa-san gave the question the consideration Aozen thought it deserved, which she almost always did for his more mature questions, and Aozen loved her for it.

“I’ve learned that there are degrees of killing.” She said at last as Aozen focused on her words. “There are many reasons to kill, but in the end it boils down to a few things: you can kill to protect, kill in retribution, or kill for pleasure. As shinobi of Konoha, we strive always to only kill to protect. As people, however, sometimes we may end up killing in retribution. One should never, ever kill for pleasure.” Kaa-san’s look turned sharp at the end, and Aozen nodded.

“It’s not as easy as that, though.” He said, and she sighed.

“No,” she agrees, “it isn’t. For a shinobi, killing can become very easy. Often, people become desensitized to it as a way of coping. For Uchiha, it’s even worse.” Aozen blinked at that, tilting his head; did she mean the Curse of Hatred?

“Always remember your Will of Fire, Ao-kun.” She reached forward to grasp one of his hands in hers, and with her other she smoothed back his hair, studying his face intently. “Always remember why you fight, and make sure it’s for the right reasons.” Caught off-guard but the gravity of her gaze, Aozen could only nod.

“I will, Kaa-san.” he promises. She smiles at him, then leans forward to kiss his forehead. 

For a moment, just a moment, he wishes he really was Aozen in mind and spirit. Kids weren’t supposed to understand the pain in their mother’s gaze when they told them those things; weren’t supposed to be able to intuit the fears behind their warnings. But he wasn't truly a kid, and he knew exactly what she was afraid of. All he could do was take the promise into his heart and keep it safe and whole there.

“Now, come on. I’m tired, hungry, and you can help me cook.” Kaa-san changed track quickly, but the mood change was effective. Aozen brightened, smiling; learning to cook sounded fun!

“Okay!” He chirps, eager to move on from the solemnity of the earlier conversation. They hop out of the tree to head home.


	4. Chapter 4

Aozen ducked deftly under a kick from Mohira that probably would’ve scrambled his brains (the boy was in year three, how was he so *strong*?), and then was forced into Shunshin to dodge the follow-up to the combo from Shisui.

The two were getting increasingly in-tune with one another and Aozen was growing frustrated; Shisui utilising his superior speed (it made sense that Shisui would be faster than Aozen, as though he were born for the Shunshin, but that didn’t make it any less annoying) and Mohira utilising his superior strength.

Against either of them individually, Aozen had a decent chance of coming out on top. Shisui was closer to his equal, while Mohira, though definitely gifted, didn’t quite have the natural aptitude that Shisui had and that Aozen internally maintained he cheated for. Mohira had, as Tou-san would put it, ‘sprouted like a weed’, gaining several inches that put him probably at the tallest in his class.

He had turned into quite the gentle giant, though. He wasn’t overly social so much as he was very open and easy-going, and from what Mohira had said, most everyone in his class could count him as their friend. 

(Shisui and Aozen were still his best friends though, Mohira assured them)

They had developed a system for sparring that involved two of them facing off against one, with the one almost always being Aozen or Shisui - in this case, Aozen. Mohira had only recently gotten the hang of the Kawarimi, and was a bit away from the chakra control necessary to attempt the Shunshin, while the prodigious duo had, through such spars, gotten progressively better at the Shunshin. They now only almost broke their nose once every other day.

Aozen hastily turned and blocked with a drawn kunai to protect himself from Shisui’s follow-up, hand darting out to grab for his weapon hand only for Shisui to dance away so that Mohira could come through and force Aozen even further back.

Aozen had no choice but to oblige in retreating, because he’d been hit by Mohira’s haymakers before and he didn’t fancy seeing stars in the middle of the day. The two were herding him towards a massive rock on the edge of the training ground.

The Academy had permanent stake on three of Konoha’s training grounds, a privilege which could only be rescinded by the Hokage. These training grounds were practically abandoned outside of class time, however, and being as all three of them were still Academy students, they decided to make the most use out of their resources.

Aozen threw out three shuriken (dulled for training, of course) in an arc to force Mohira and Shisui back and give him some breathing room, however temporary. Mohira stumbled back as one impacted his vest, whilst Shisui, deft enough to dodge, ducked under them and rushed forward.

Aozen made to block Shisui’s first strike with his kunai, only to suddenly drop it and reach with both hands to grab Shisui’s wrist and elbow of his offensive appendage, which was poised to stab him in the throat with a blunted kunai. 

Caught off guard by the feint, Shisui’s eyes widened as his momentum became Aozen’s to manipulate. Torquing with his waist, Aozen turned and used his leg to trip Shisui even as he threw him with his hold on the boy’s arm. Helpless and now suddenly without his legs on the ground, Shisui couldn’t even Shunshin, nor could he form the hand seals for a Kawarimi as he instinctively went to cushion his fall.

With Shisui momentarily out of the way, Aozen turned to face Mohira, only to find the nine-year old forming the Tiger seal. Aozen’s features barely twitched in a frown.

“What -” suddenly, fire erupted from Mohira’s mouth. Instinctively, Aozen channeled chakra into his feet in a rapid fashion, the resultant energy shooting him upwards in the sky.

Momentarily suspended in the sky as he reached the top of his arc, he could see the space where he had been covered in the fire of the Gōkakyū no Jutsu - created by Mohira!

The fire faded quickly and wasn’t that large which was fortunate for Shisui, who had been thrown off to the side a few feet from where Aozen had just been standing but was unharmed from the attack.

Aozen landed with a grunt, and stood back up to look at Mohira with something akin to awe. Mohira looked just as surprised.

“Was that - what I think it is?” Shisui said, climbing to his feet and scrambling over.

“It was the Gōkakyū!” Aozen announced, still staring at Mohira. “Mohi! You didn’t tell us you could do that jutsu!” 

“...I didn’t really know I could until just then,” the boy admitted sheepishly after a few seconds, reaching up to scratch his head.

“Wait, you mean that was your first time?” Shisui asked. Mohira nodded.

“That’s awesome!” Shisui shouted at the same time Aozen squawked, “That could’ve killed me!”

“Sorry Azo, I didn’t mean to hurt you. Well - I mean, I guess I kind of did, but I didn’t actually want you to get hurt. I didn’t hurt you, did I?” That sentence was completely self-contradictory, but Mohira was so genuinely self-conscious in that moment that Aozen felt all of his superficial protests fade away.

“No, Mohi, it’s all good. That was pretty cool. When did you learn it?” At the question, Mohira perked up a little bit.

“Well, I started watching people at the clan’s training days like you said you did. I practiced the hand seals a lot, but I never actually managed to make any fire until just then. I was kinda… in the heat of the moment.” Another sheepish smile.

“That was a terrible pun.” Aozen said dryly, but Shisui was laughing. 

“Mohi, you’re a natural!” Shisui said. 

“Clearly, they didn’t see that there’s *another* Uchiha genius among us.” Aozen added. Mohira blushed at that.

“No… ’m not a genius.” the boy murmured, but he didn’t sound sad about it. Mohira was often humble to a fault, even more so than either Aozen or Shisui, and he’d said before that as long as the two of them didn’t physically leave him behind, he didn’t mind that he was a few years behind in them, or ‘not a genius’, as he said.

Shisui had totally not been eavesdropping on the teacher’s lounge when he’d heard them talking about Mohira; apparently the only reason Mohira wasn’t moved up a year was because the administrators were worried about ‘showing favoritism’ for the major clans, probably because Shisui and Aozen both had already been moved up so far.

“Ahh, you don’t need to be, Mohi.” Shisui said, walking over to throw his arm over the taller boy’s shoulders.

“He’s right,” Aozen beamed, moving to shoulder-bump him. “We like you just the way you are.”

Mohira smiled like sunshine. “Thanks, guys.” A few moments passed in silence where they all basked in the friendship (maybe it was sappy, but Aozen felt more comfortable with the both of them than he thought he ever would).

“So… is now a good time to mention that the spar was never called?” Shisui said with a grin that Aozen would’ve called shit-eating if it wasn’t plastered on such an innocent face. A few beats passed where the both of them looked to Aozen.

“Uh.” Aozen vocalized, then hastily tried to dodge out of the way as the both of his friends tried to dogpile atop him. Naturally, he failed.

Friends, he thought. This is my Will of Fire. Then Mohira was digging his elbow into Aozen’s back and his thoughts became full of curses.

========================================

The room was full of over two dozen students, and yet it was startlingly quiet. Had they been year two students (or maybe even year three students on a bad day) this would have been no small miracle, but instead these were year six students at the very end of their tenure.

Each of them were awaiting their name to be called into the examination room, where they would take the final and arguably most important portion of their exam: the practical ninjutsu showcase. 

The majority of the students were clearly nervous, occasionally whispering to someone beside them, biting their nails, or bouncing their leg (*Kami* was there ever a lot of leg bouncing). 

Aozen wasn’t worried in the least, however. He’d had the Academy Three mastered for what felt like years by now. The written exam had required little effort on his part, and if he’d gotten anything but top marks on the physical examination, he’d probably have committed seppuku on the spot.

The only difficult part was the waiting. He *knew* he was going to pass, there was no way he wouldn’t, and yet with every minute that ticked by there was some wriggling form of anxiety that tried to settle into his gut to yell at him. They’d mixed up the groups who would be taking the exam too, so he didn’t even have Shisui to talk with since he was in another room.

One by one, people were called into the room. None exited, presumably leaving the other way so that they wouldn’t gossip about what the test was like or feel the shame of their fellows if they happened to fail the test.

The population in the waiting room had dwindled down to half when one of the examiners, an unfamiliar female that he thought might’ve been a Nara but wasn’t sure.

“Uchiha Aozen.” She called, and Aozen stood. He walked into the room and she closed the door behind him, before walking back to her seat. The exam room was just a repurposed classroom, with most of the chairs gone or pushed to the edges of the room. Miscellaneous items were on some of the remaining tables, like pencils, pens, stacks of papers, an empty backpack. He could guess at their purpose.

“Hi, Tojiro-sensei,” Aozen greeted the only familiar proctor with a smile. The Nara woman sat beside him, and another person Aozen placed at twenty years old at best was the third examiner. He bowed his head to them both.

“Hey, kid.” Tojiro-sensei responded with a small smile of his own. “You ready to start?”

“Hai, sensei.” he returned.

“Alright. If you would, Henge into a person or object of your choosing for me.”

Aozen nodded and formed the requisite hand-seals. With a slight puff of smoke, he turned into a replica of Shisui.

The Henge wasn’t incredibly complicated at heart, which was why it was chosen for the Academy. The chakra cost was very low, and all it really took to increase the effectiveness of the jutsu was one’s focus. In this case, Shisui was very close to his height and build, so there was little transformation necessary on his body. 

Other things however, like his hair, required a bit more effort: Shisui’s hair was short, curly, and black, while Aozen’s hair was longer, straighter, and brown. If he wasn’t careful, his hair could look like a botched dye job, or a haircut gone wrong. He found that it wasn’t terribly difficult to capture things like the material of clothing or the feeling of skin, as those kinds of details just came naturally to him.

The third proctor that Aozen didn’t know stood to inspect him more closely, before nodding. 

“Turn into that chair.” The proctor demanded in a thin, reedy voice, pointing across the room. Aozen obliged.

Inanimate objects were more uncomfortable but sometimes easier since people normally didn’t pay as much attention to individual objects. Well, people might not, but shinobi usually did.

Transforming into a wooden chair made him feel rigid and stiff, and he was thankful when the examiner took only a few seconds to observe before nodding his satisfaction. Aozen released the jutsu and transformed back into himself.

“Kawarimi with something in the room.” The Nara woman requested in a smooth alto.

Aozen formed the seals. With all of his practice, he’d narrowed down the five seals to three, and he was certain he could do better if he focused on it. The more he got used to the feel of a particular jutsu, the easier it was to instinctively shape his chakra towards it without the use of hand-seals.

Aozen chose a pencil on the desk behind the proctors to replace himself with. They all three turned to examine his new location just as the pencil hit the ground. With the same three hand-seals, he Kawarimi’d with the same pencil again, now in front of the examiners. Turning back around, Tojiro-sensei favored him with a smirk.

“Cheeky brat.” He said aloud, which only made Aozen beam.

“Now it’s just the Bunshin part, right?”

“If you would be so kind,” the Nara teacher drawled. 

Aozen was, in fact, so kind. He created two copies of himself on either side of him, then made a small show of the three of them checking other out and finding themselves satisfactory.

“Do we pass?” All three of him said in unison. The Nara blinked, Tojiro-sensei’s smirk widened, and the third proctor seemed a little surprised.

“Yep. Congratulations, kid.” Tojiro-sensei stood, and took from the back of his belt what Aozen was sure would become one of his most prized possessions: a hitai-ate headband with the Konoha symbol engraved on it. “You are now a fully-fledged ninja of the Leaf, granted the rank of Genin.”

Aozen took the hitai-ate, stared at it, then turned up to Tojiro-sensei with a smile that he was sure was positively blinding (he’d learned it from his Tou-san). 

Tojiro-sensei scoffed, then took a small note from a pouch on his belt and handed it to Aozen next. “There’re instructions for where and when to meet your new Jounin-sensei. Now scram.” Tojiro-sensei gestured to the door behind him, but he was clearly only joking.

“Thanks, Tojiro-sensei, Proctor-sensei,” Aozen bowed his head to all three of them in turn then scurried out of the room.

Aozen tuned out his surroundings (a terrible thing to do as a shinobi, but he was in the Academy and excited because he’d just graduated) and immediately tied the hitai-ate around his head, pushing his bangs out of the way and relishing the feel of it. Next, he opened the letter he’d been given.

It was just a card, really, and on it were the words, “Meet at Bunrachi’s, Akimichi District, Monday, 12:00 PM.”

It was more straightforward than he was expecting - and come to think, was a letter normally how things were done? He thought there was a whole thing about people in a classroom with a teacher announcing the genin teams to everyone, then they met up with their sensei. Had he made that up in his head? Or was something actually different?

He decided that it didn’t matter, because he was going to meet his sensei and his teammates eventually. What was most important for the moment was informing his parents. He rushed out of the Academy, employing liberal use of the Shunshin to reach home as fast as possible without injury.

========================================

Aozen didn’t eat out often, or really at all. There were some holiday occasions where his parents would take him out, but for the most part Kaa-san either cooked or they were taken to one of the restaurants inside the compound. This one was in Akimichi Plaza, and so was presumably owned by the Akimichi. He’d never heard of it before, but if this was where his prospective sensei wanted to meet, then so be it. 

With his new hitai-ate, he was getting a bit more attention than he had before. He hadn’t been wandering the compound very much, but the few times he’d walked around town before he was generally just seen as a kid, not immediately placeable as an Uchiha and so not immediately remarkable.

Now, though, people gave him looks; neither good nor bad looks, mostly ones of curiosity. Probably because he still hadn’t hit any kind of growth spurt (which was frustrating, to say the least) but was clearly a shinobi. People generally moved out of the way, and he got a few nods from older Shinobi, probably Chuunin, which was pretty neat.

He compared the instructions on the note in his hand to the restaurant in front of him, deemed them comparable, and then walked inside.

“Hello!” came the bright voice of the hostess behind a podium after the front door. “Ah, shinobi-san.” she amended, apparently not surprised in the least by the hitai-ate.

“Um, hello. I’m supposed to meet my team here. Is there a table reserved?” Was he early? He didn’t have a watch, so he couldn’t tell.

“Hm…” the hostess, a cute woman probably in her mid-twenties, gave some paper in front of her a cursory glance. “It doesn’t appear so, but if you wish, I can show you to an empty table so you can wait for your team to arrive.” She smiled.

“Um. That would be alright, yes.”

“Okay!” she chirped, probably with false cheer. He had yet to meet anyone that was genuinely that happy, but maybe he was just pessimistic. She led him through the restaurant to a table against the wall. Aozen thanked her and took a seat, positioning his chair such that he could look at the rest of the restaurant with his back to the wall.

It was a good thing to be early, he decided. He’d have time to order his food and maybe get it by the time his team arrived, and possibly also to think.

The Akimichi District held some of the most popular restaurants in Konoha, so it didn’t necessarily indicate that his sensei was going to be from that clan, though it was a point in their favor. 

If he was being apprenticed or put on the team of someone special, he thought that there’d probably have been more fanfare, or at least a meeting at Hokage tower, or something like that. Instead, he’d just gotten a note.

The odds were favorable that he was just being put on a regular genin team, which… would probably be fine. He liked the progress he’d made, and graduating at seven was much better than at twelve, but maybe it would be beneficial to slow things down a bit? Having a team would be pretty neat, too. Working with Shisui and Mohira had shown him how much fun it was to grow alongside someone.

He glanced down at the menu, and, finding a lot of unfamiliar options, decided on something safe; sukiyaki with a side of yakitori and miso soup. No waiter had come to serve him yet, though. He turned his attention towards the rest of the room. It was lunchtime, so the place was about full, though he saw a few empty tables.

People-watching was a fun activity, and valuable for a shinobi. The more he observed people being candid, the more he could tell when something was out of place, though he had no illusions about his powers of observation thus far being anything but above-average, at the very best.

This continued for a few minutes, before he frowned. A woman sipped her soup and almost dropped it. This was the third time she had done this. He glanced about, towards the entrance. Come to think, he hadn’t actually seen anyone enter in a while, which seemed out-of-place for a popular restaurant at lunch time.

Considering this for a few more moments, he raised two fingers to his lips and whispered, “Kai,” whilst flaring his chakra like he’d been taught at the Academy. 

There was a strange sensation, like walking through a wet curtain, before he blinked. The restaurant was different, he noted immediately: the woman who had almost dropped her soup was no longer at her table, though the man she had been eating with was. One of the tables at the end of the restaurant was full but had been empty a moment ago.

A genjutsu.

“Not terrible, pup.There’s room for a lot of improvement, though.” came a warm male voice from his right. He looked across the table to notice that the other seat was occupied.

The man had a Konoha hitai-ate and a wealth of white hair that was pulled into a ponytail yet still managed to fall past his shoulder to where Aozen couldn’t see. He was smiling slightly, an expression he seemed to make a lot judging by the clear laugh lines etched beneath his cheekbones. His eyes were almost as dark as a Uchiha’s, swirling with a similar intensity.

He wore the standard Jounin vest and gear, with the addition of a half-sleeve of white over his left arm. The sleeve had red fire along the edges and an Uzushio spiral emblazoned on it. He seemed… familiar.

“Caught you by surprise, I see.” The man continued, amused. “We’ll start with introductions. My name is Hatake Sakumo. I’ll be your Jounin-sensei.”

…

What.

Hatake Sakumo? Father of Kakashi? 

“The White Fang?” he said blankly, still trying to process the man in front of him. Said man smiled more, enough that his eyes crinkled.

“Ah, some people call me that. It’s just a moniker.” He waves a dismissive hand in a good-natured fashion, still watching Aozen very closely, but Aozen was busy thinking.

Sakumo was alive?

Hadn’t he killed himself at the end of the Second Shinobi War, or something like that? But - no, that didn’t make sense. Kakashi graduated the Academy when he was five, and was apprenticed to Minato a short time before becoming part of Obito and Rin’s team. By that point, the war had already progressed a bit, so -

So Sakumo probably would have committed seppuku sometime just before the war began - maybe his failed mission was even part of the reason it started.

Except… Sakumo had never had a genin team in canon. Jounin-senseis didn’t go on those types of missions. Does -

Can he make sure Sakumo never dies? The thought is instantly appealing, and not in the least because it means Kakashi would never have to deal with that trauma. If Kakashi never loses his father, then he would have no reason to abandon Obito and Rin at Kannabi Bridge.

“Oh, dear. I wonder if the genjutsu was too strong.” came Sakumo’s voice, jolting him back to reality.

“S-sorry,” he managed, trying to regain control of himself. “I was thinking.” A bit too deeply, apparently.

“Is that something you do often?” Sakumo cants his head, still perched casually in his seat. He hadn’t moved since Aozen realized he was there.

“I try to. Er, just thinking, not zoning out.” Sakumo hums at that. “So - so you’re my sensei?”

“That I am, pup.” He answers evenly. Sakumo didn’t appear threatening in the least, and indeed, his easy smile was beginning to relax Aozen. He knew that Sakumo was supposed to be one of the most powerful ninja in Konoha, though. He tore himself away from the man’s gaze nonetheless, looking out across the restaurant and trying to think more actively.

“...that was clever.” He decides to say. 

“Oh? Whatever do you mean?” Sakumo was clearly searching for something, because he had thus far made no attempts to direct the conversation anywhere.

“You put the genjutsu over me to see how long it would take me to notice, and also to see how I act while I think I’m alone. A public place, a restaurant, to make me feel relaxed. I’m… surprised you didn’t wait for my teammates to arrive, though.” Sakumo merely listens, though one brow ticks upward at the end.

“Huh. They don’t tell genin anything, apparently. Nice observations - except, you don’t have teammates. I’m your Jounin-sensei, and you’re my apprentice.”

...well, lunch was just full of surprises. Aozen takes a second to digest that.

“Did you pick me?” He asks.

“No,” Sakumo says easily. “Sarutobi-sama,” the Hokage, he guessed, “did that for me. But I’m free to pass or fail you as I see it.” 

“Oh.” That made sense. “...so this is all part of my genin test?” Normally, only the three-man genin teams had tests from their Jounin-sensei, and as far as he knew most of them were based around teamwork. He couldn’t exactly form a team with just himself.

“In a way,” Sakumo-maybe-sensei nods. “The genjutsu was a spur of the moment decision, to see what you’d do and how long it’d take you.” Aozen winces; it was probably a few minutes, an eternity in the shinobi world. Sakumo chuckles. “Not to worry, pup. That was probably the first time you’ve ever been under one outside of the Academy, right?” Aozen nods. “What tipped you off?”

“Some people began repeating actions in the same way. A lady almost spilled her soup three times. No one was entering the restaurant, but it’s lunch time. And… the hostess didn’t seem surprised at all to see me.” Sakumo canted his head again.

“Why wouldn’t she be?”

“Well… this restaurant is probably shinobi-owned, or at least receives shinobi.” He looked to Sakumo-maybe-sensei for confirmation, and he nodded. “I get the impression that I’m a little irregular as far as new graduates ago, with the whole ‘half their age’ thing. I’ve been getting weird glances all day. She didn’t bat an eyelash.” Sakumo’s smile had grown a little wider.

“Not bad. Those are solid observations, and ones I’d not typically expect of most fresh graduates.” Aozen can feel a flush rising up his neck. “It’s a decent start, but I haven’t decided yet. Tell me about yourself.” Ugh. Aozen dislikes that question. He decides to go with the basics.

“My name is Uchiha Aozen. My favorite color is green. My favorite thing to do is learn.” He says, looking up at Sakumo expectantly; if he didn’t ask any deeper questions, Aozen wasn’t going to know what to say.

“Favorite thing to learn?” Sakumo inquires without missing a beat. Aozen considers.

“I would say jutsu, but I haven’t learned enough to really say they’re my favorite. The thing that I want to learn the most is kenjutsu.” Sakumo’s expression shifts at that.

“What’s your strongest subject right now?” He continues.

“Academic or for a ninja?” Aozen asks.

“Are the academic subjects not for ninja?” Sakumo returns.

“If you asked a kunoichi whether she’s ever used flower arranging in an actual mission, I bet you would get the answer.” Aozen retorts, resulting in a sudden bark of laughter from Sakumo. ‘Bark’ is the right word, and he has to remember that the Hatake family has the dog summoning contract. Nonetheless, it’s a warm sound, and Aozen finds himself smiling alongside his maybe-sensei.

“Point. Both, then.” Sakumo says once he recovers.

“Reading and writing, then taijutsu.” He answers immediately. He’d say math for the first one, but he didn’t really like math, even if he was good at it.

“How many jutsu do you know?”

“Five. The Academy Three, the Shunshin, and also the Gōkakyū no Jutsu.” Aozen responds.

“Ah, yes, the Uchiha tradition,” Sakumo comments. “What do you do in your spare time?” He blinks at the sudden shift.

“Train.” he says, a bit lamely. 

“Just train? Alone?” Sakumo raises a brow. 

“No,” Aozen shakes his head, “I train with Tou-san when he has time, and Kaa-san if she’s in the village. I have two friends, Mohira and Shisui. Shisui graduated with me. Mohira is still in his third year. I met him when I first arrived.” Sakumo is an attentive listener, at least.

“Just the two, no others? They’re both in your clan, are they not?”

“...I don’t need any more.” he says, only slightly confused. Shisui and Mohira were enough; any more might be a little exhausting. “I have a bonsai tree my Tou-san gave me and showed me how to take care of. Other than that… yeah, train. I like making progress.” he finished, perhaps a bit lamely. He resisted the urge to fidget. Sakumo purses his lips, considering a moment.

“Do you have any long-term goals?” 

Aozen’s brow furrows. He does, but they wouldn’t make any sense to anyone else and he wasn’t trying to out himself as having reincarnated just yet. Maybe ever.

“I think being a Jounin would be nice.” He says.

“Hm. Just being a Jounin for the sake of being a Jounin? Training for the sake of training?” Sakumo questions, and Aozen can’t help but think he’s a little disappointed, despite his expression not changing. He frowns, and considers this for several moments.

“Have you ever - felt like the future is - uncertain?” He says, speech halting as he tries to find the right words. Slowly, Sakumo nods, watching him closely. 

“I dislike not knowing what’s in store for the future,” he continues. ”The - the big future, not like tomorrow or next week. I feel like it’s out of my control. So I train and try to learn, so maybe, one day, I can determine my future. And… and make sure my people are safe.” It was becoming increasingly clear that his presence alone was changing many things, and the future was becoming increasingly murky. 

Sakumo considers this whilst looking at him. “Your clan?” He inquires. Aozen shakes his head.

“Yes, but - not really. My people. I don’t know who all of them are yet, but I’ll find out.” That includes his clan. It probably includes Konoha, too. But, while he knew there were definitely bad people in the rest of the world, there were good people, too. And they were probably worth saving, right?

“That’s very noble of you, Aozen-kun.” Sakumo says with an unreadable tone of voice. Aozen ducks his head, and Sakumo doesn’t say anything for a few minutes more. In the meantime, their food arrives; Sakumo must have ordered his when he came in.

“...alright, pup.” Sakumo speaks suddenly after they’d begun eating. “You pass the test.” Aozen pauses, a skewer of yakitori halfway to his mouth.

“Really? The conversation was the test?” 

“Yep. I had to make sure you were teachable, compatible, all that.” He smiles warmly, in a manner reminding him of tou-san. “Now, eat up and we’ll go to the training grounds. I’ve tested your personality, we’ll have to see how much help you need on your ‘ninja skills’.” Aozen brightens.

“Okay, Sakumo-sensei,” he responds, and begins to attack his food with renewed vigor. 

(he would come regret that enthusiastic decision a few hours later, when he was throwing all of his yakitori onto training ground thirteen after Sakumo-sensei made him run laps for what felt like hours)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> another chapter! four in a row, i'm not doing too bad. this one's a bit shorter as well. i typically aim for 6-7k words in what i would call a good, full chapter, but this one reached a suitable stopping point just as it reached midnight thirty, and i decided that it was good enough to post.
> 
> now, if you haven't read the tags, i'll reiterate them here: don't expect the timelines to make sense lmao. there's no such thing as a 'structured chronological sequence' in naruto apparently outside of the events of the manga/anime's episodes.
> 
> someone: but the wiki clearly says that x event occurred before/during y!!!  
> me: it's passed on. it has ceased to be. That canon is no more. it's expired and gone to meet it's maker. Bereft of life, it rests in peace. its metabolic processes are now history. it's kicked the bucket, it's shuffled off its mortal coil, run down the curtain and joined the choir invisible. This is an ex-Canon
> 
> re: the tags: the HATAKES DESERVED BETTER
> 
> thanks for reading my lovelies, comment if u enjoyed xx
> 
> cheers!  
> ~ylri


	5. Chapter 5

“Ao-kun.” came someone’s voice. Ao-kun, of course, was dead to the world, because Sakumo-sensei was a *slave driver* and everything hurt and if he could fall into a light coma right about now, he would be fine with that.

“Ao-kun.” the voice persisted, and distantly he could feel his body being shaken. He grumbled his dispassion in that inarticulate language the exhausted were fluent in. 

“Ao-kun, if you don’t wake up on your own, I’m going to have to do it for you.” his Kaa-san said in her sweetest voice; the kind that was so sweet it wrapped back around to being threatening.

“...’mup.” he grumbled.

“I can tell.” Kaa-san said, the sarcasm implied.

“G’me a min’t.” He said. When he didn’t hear or feel anyone move, he groaned and flopped onto his back, opening his eyes a smidgen.

“Training with Sakumo-sama went well, hm?” Kaa-san said, a knowing edge to her voice. Aozen fixed her with his best glare (which still wasn’t very good, but it did the job). She laughed. “Well, Fushima-sama wants to see you at the clan house this morning, so you need to get ready.”

Aozen stared at the ceiling. “Mk.” he muttered. Whatever made him think getting the clan head’s attention would be a good thing? He was supposed to train with Sakumo-sensei later today, too.

Getting ready was a straightforward affair. He took a shower and got his hair into a manageable state, thankful for the unspoken societal conventions that stated seven year olds didn’t have to have elaborate hairstyles (his hair was already past his jawline and would probably get longer). 

He was out the door with Kaa-san and heading towards the clan house before he was even fully aware of it. He frowned as he walked, holding Kaa-san’s hand.

“Kaa-san,” he began, “why does Fushima-ojii-sama want to see us?” 

“I have no idea, dear,” Kaa-san responded neutrally. Her response seemed genuine enough, but Aozen got the impression she was lying. Aozen narrowed his eyes at her, but she wasn’t looking at him, so he sighed and continued walking.

They waved hello to passing Uchiha and the neighbour oba-samas as they walked. Were he any more energetic, he might have preened with his shiny new hitai-ate. Arrogance wasn’t befitting of a well-behaved Uchiha (*cough*sasuke*cough*) but pride has its place, or so he would tell himself.

When they reached the clan house, the door opened before Kaa-san could even flare her chakra (which was, apparently, a polite way of letting another shinobi you’d arrived). Fugaku-oji-sama was the one to greet them, expression placid as he inclined his head.

“Fugaku-sama,” Kaa-san greeted.

“Fugaku-oji-sama,” Aozen greeted next. Fugaku managed the most momentary of small smiles at that, but otherwise merely stepped aside to allow them inside.

“Yuhoki-san, Aozen-san. Mikoto is currently resting with Itachi-kun upstairs, so will likely be unavailable this morning.” Which explained why he was the one to answer the door, too.

Aozen felt momentarily inspired to ask after Itachi, feeling a desire to see him - though he wasn’t sure why. Maybe some part of him wished to reconcile the notion of Itachi Clan-Killer with the newborn infant, the picture of innocence. Or maybe he was just being morbid. Besides, he had no wish to disturb Mikoto-sama’s rest, which was no doubt well-earned. 

He let go of Kaa-san’s hand as they walked inside, led through the same hallways to the same dining room in which they’d had their dinner so long ago.

When they entered, Aozen saw Fushima-ojii-sama at the head of the table like usual, but was surprised to see Shisui sitting to his left. Aozen perked up immediately, waving to him. Then he remembered himself and looked to Fushima-ojii-sama, who appeared content to ignore the slight slip in etiquette.

“Yuhoki-san, Aozen-kun. Come, sit.”

“Fushima-sama,” Kaa-san greeted with a small smile and bow. Aozen followed her example. 

(despite living here for seven years, he’d never really gotten used to the whole ‘etiquette’ thing beyond the obvious. there were *so* many rules, from how to sit down to when it was acceptable to raise your chopsticks above your mouth. come to think, most of the rules had to do with eating)

Aozen went first in order to sit next to Shisui, while his Kaa-san sat beside him. The left side of the table (from the head of the table’s view) was ordinarily for guests, whilst the right was for the host’s family and entourage. 

He cast Shisui a questioning look, but Shisui just smiled.

“Congratulations are in order, young Aozen-kun.” Fushima-ojii-sama began, Aozen’s attention swiveling to him. “You and Shisui-kun are among the youngest graduates of the Academy in decades.”

Another shy glance to Shisui. “I did my best, Fushima-ojii-sama. As did Shisui.” What else could he say? He felt bizarrely compelled to spout out the reason for his abundance of knowledge, if only to see the look on his clan leader’s face. The impulse faded quickly, fortunately.

Fushima-ojii-sama merely exhaled sharply through his nose, a light scoff. Fugaku-oji-sama was standing beside him, notably not sitting.

“Certainly, and the Clan expects no less. It seemed only fitting to impart the traditional gifts to begin your genin career.” Aozen blinked; gifts? Fushima gestured beside him. “Shisui-kun has already received his.” Shisui beamed (he was a morning person on top of everything else) as though cued and held up his gift. 

It was a tantō perhaps a few inches over a foot in length. Sheathed, but Aozen could only assume the blade was beautiful as the outside: the ito, or cloth binding around the hilt, was the standard black, and there was a ring of what Aozen could only describe as miniature prayer beads in place of a true tsuba (guard). The scabbard was a beautiful deep Uchiha crimson, complete with black sagiyo. 

Aozen was suitably awed by it just as Shisui was suitably proud of it. He brightens, both in happiness for Shisui and at the admittedly selfish prospect of receiving one of his own.

Fushima nods to Fugaku, who goes to the edge of the room next to a sliding door that led elsewhere in the house. From a long case, he removes a long and thin object, holding it reverently as he turns to come over to Aozen.

Aozen stares. “This is a sword.” he says blankly, confounded. It was. It wasn’t as long as some of the nihontō he’d seen, but it was most certainly nearing the length of a katana, longer than a wakizashi. It wasn’t a traditional katana (for all that he knew of katanas, which wasn’t that much), for both the handle and sheath were made of black wood. There was no tsuba, and the entire thing appeared plain and unassuming except for a small pattern of flowers along the length of the sheath, inlain with gold. A less traditional presentation, but no less beautiful for it.

Fugaku-oji-sama snorts. “Truly, your natural powers of observation rival the Sharingan.” He said dryly, and Aozen blushed.

Clearly amused, Fushima-ojii-sama said, “Indeed. You have expressed your interest in kenjutsu, and a sword is a traditional gift. Your teacher is the foremost swordsman in Fire Country; it seemed prudent to give you the tools to realize your potential.”

Of course, in their ‘training’ (which was really just Sakumo-sensei making Aozen do all manner of physical exercise, occasionally whilst performing a jutsu) yesterday, Sakumo-sensei had mostly observed, and Aozen still knew nothing of his skills. For Fushima-ojii-sama to acknowledge it so plainly…

He had the feeling that, even beyond his goals of changing the future, he’d gotten *really* lucky with his sensei.

With the same degree of solemn grace, Fugaku-oji-sama lowered himself next to Aozen with the sword held in both hands. Aozen shifted to face him, and held out both of his hands to receive the blade. It looks small in Fugaku’s hands but as it’s transferred, it seems a little too big for Aozen; hopefully he’d grow into it.

He looked to his left at Kaa-san, feeling inclined to vibrate with excitement. Kaa-san favored him with an indulgent smile, eyes alight with mirth. He looked back to his patriarch.

“Thank you, Fushima-ojii-sama, Fugaku-oji-sama. Who crafted this?” 

“One of our elder blacksmiths. His name is Hikaru-sama.” It was Fugaku who answered, looking pleased at the question. Judging by the honorific, he guessed the blacksmith may truly be an ‘Elder’. “Mikoto helped.” Both Shisui and Aozen twitched in surprise at that.

“Mikoto-sama is a smith?” Shisui piped up, confusion audible.

“Not quite,” Fugaku answered. “Her uncle is the one who taught Hikaru-sama the craft. She learned by proximity, and enjoys it from time to time. She felt obliged to lend her aid in the creation of your gifts.”

“Our thanks to him, Fugaku-oji-sama. This is… uh, a lot.” Aozen eloquated. Fushima chortled, which quickly turned into a hacking cough. Aozen managed to resist a wince; Shisui was not so fortunate, but the cough ended quickly and Fushima waved a hand.

“Consider these investments into your future. It would not do if one of the Uchiha were ill-equipped.” Fushima stated once he’d recovered.

Well, Aozen certainly wasn’t going to refuse, and judging from the way Shisui kept glancing down at his own tantō, he felt the same.

The ceremony didn’t involve breakfast, it seemed, and (wouldn’t you know it), the clan head and heir actually had business to attend to beyond graduation gifts. That they’d taken time out to do it in person at all was flattering.

Kaa-san walked them both home as Shisui and Aozen chattered away. Aozen had been shown how to wear his new katana, as had Shisui with his tantō, The both of them wore their new weapons proudly, still a tad overcome with the novelty of such a gift.

“I only mentioned it once to Mikoto-sama, I didn’t think she’d actually listened!” Shisui was saying, beaming; Aozen was smiling similarly.

“Mikoto-sama is very nice. I don’t even know how they found out about me wanting a sword, I only ever mentioned it to you and Mohi.” Aozen responded.

“I’m sure it had nothing to do with all of the scrolls you borrowed on the Uchiha crafting style from the Clan Archives,” Kaa-san intoned from behind them. Aozen shot her a look and she merely raised an elegant brow.

“...yeah, I guess she’s right.” Aozen said.

“Who’s your sensei? Fushima-sama called him the ‘best swordsman in Fire country’?” Shisui peered curiously at him.

“Hatake Sakumo. I’m his apprentice.” Aozen responded with a smile. He wasn’t prideful so much as happy with the outcome; as much as he was slavedriver, he seemed nice.

Shisui’s eyes widened. “No way. The White Fang? That’s amazing!” Shisui, ever the bearer of good cheer, managed to make Aozen smile even wider at the genuineness of his commendation. 

“Yeah… I’m supposed to be at training soon.” he said, thoughts turning to said training and how difficult it was probably going to be. Progress *hurt*. “Who’s your sensei?”

“Kurama Yasunori,” Shisui said. Aozen judged from his tone that he was happy with the choice. “My teammates are Tsuni Koteru and Hyūga Isora.”

“Neat. Do you like them?” For all that Shisui was a ray of sunshine, he wasn’t immune to disliking people (several Academy students came to mind)

Shisui shrugged. “Isora seems a little stiff, but she *is* a Hyūga.” Had Aozen been looking, he would’ve seen Kaa-san work to withhold a snorth. “Koteru just seems nervous, which isn’t surprising for a civilian-born. Yasunori-sensei is a little… intense. I don’t know - I’ve only had one day with them.”

“Hm. Buy them dango. Everybody loves dango.” Aozen said matter-of-factly. It’s true. Everybody knew this. “Anyway, I have to go change to get ready for training with Sakumo-sensei. I’ll see you later!” They had reached Aozen’s house at this point, which was along the main street of the compound. Shisui’s, he knew, was only two blocks west. 

“Okay! Have fun, Azo! Bye, Yuhoki-san!” 

“Be good, Shisui-kun. Train hard,” Kaa-san waved as Shisui took off towards his own home, presumably for the same reason as Aozen. 

Aozen took off inside to change into clothes more appropriate for training. He kept the sword at his side, hooking it into a special sash he’d been given for just this purpose. He said another hurried goodbye to Kaa-san as he rushed out the door, and then blurred into Shunshin with a hand on his sword to keep it from falling off. 

He wondered if there was a way to keep it more secure in battle. Perhaps some kind of seal? A storage seal placed on his belt, or something similar, where he could hide it quickly if need be. It might make it easier to lose, though… was it possible to summon an inanimate object?

That sounded closer to the territory of Minato’s Hiraishin, albeit summoning a thing to a person instead of a person to a place. Sakumo-sensei had clout, didn’t he? He probably knew him, since Minato was a student of Jiraiya. Probably better to wait until the War started though, since Aozen would have no reasonable explanation for knowing him.

Aozen jogged the last part of the journey to Training Ground 13. As soon as he stepped across the threshold where the path ended and transitioned into open field, he knew something was wrong. 

He Shunshined a few meters backwards, the only location he knew was safe. A kunai landed on the ground right where he had been, and a heartbeat later, it exploded. He drew his new katana before he really knew what was happening, spreading out his underdeveloped chakra sense to try and search for oncoming danger.

“Situational awareness, pup.” Kami, but the voice was *right over* his shoulder. 

He spun, swinging his sword in a horizontal arc as he did. Sakumo easily parried the strike with his *hand*, of all things, and used his free left hand to form the Tiger seal and Shunshin backward again, further into the training ground.

“New sword, huh? Neat!” Sakumo-sensei had the infuriating quality of always sounding like an especially paternal grandfather, not so much cheery as warm, even while he was ordering Aozen to perform another ten pushups before he would be allowed to vomit.

(yeah. that happened. aozen got to six before he couldn’t hold it in. sakumo-sensei had the decency to hold his hair back, though)

“You’re late, by the way.” Sakumo continued.

“Blame Fushima-ojii-sama.” he immediately responded. Sakumo strolled forward, hands on his hips and bright smile ever-present. 

“Related to the Clan head, hm?” His brow ticked upward.

“...no. But he said I could call him that. The sword is a graduation present.” He kept both hands gripped on the hilt. A casual ninja was a confident ninja, and a confident ninja was either underestimating his enemy or knew exactly how powerful he and his enemy were in relation to each other. In this case, it was definitely the latter, and Aozen knew his sensei possessed the power to kill him using only his pinky toe.

He would never do that, of course. But the thought was there.

“And do you know how to use it?” Sakumo pressed.

Aozen hesitated. “I’ve been practicing kenjutsu.” He said instead.

The sword had been a staple of the Uchiha style ever since the Warring Clans Era, and as such their personal taijutsu form accounted for more than just the body. The form was simple in quantity (it possessed perhaps half a dozen katas) but relied instead on the ingenuity of the user to combine and intuit new methods of defeating one’s opponent. It adapted quite easily to weapons, be they kunai, tantō, katanas, or anything in between. 

Aozen was very proficient with the Uchiha style; it was the reason he’d been top of his class in taijutsu, shorter than his classmates or no. That said, this was the first time he’d wielded a sword that had been crafted for him.

Sakumo-sensei laughed in a way that somehow managed not to be condescending. “So, no. Put it away for now, pup. A weapon you don’t know how to use becomes a tool of the enemy, not you.” Aozen grimaced and reluctantly sheathed the blade.

“Fushima-ojii-sama said you were the foremost swordsman in Fire Country.” He said instead of responding to his tactical faux-pas. Again, Sakumo’s brow ticked upward.

“That was very kind of him. I’ll have to thank him for the compliment. Now, run me through your reaction just a few moments ago.” Aozen blinked.

“I sensed something was wrong a second before the kunai landed, so I shunshined backwards since I had just come from that direction. I tried to see if I could sense any chakra, but then you appeared. I tried to ward you off while I gained distance with another Shunshin.” By then, Sakumo was standing at a casual distance in front of him.

“Why didn’t you attack?”

“Because you parried my sword with your hand and I didn’t think I was going to do much good against that. At best, I could have avoided being hit, but landing any attack was unlikely.” Aozen glanced at Sensei’s hand, which was, naturally, unmarred. Unfair.

“What could you have done better?” Aozen blinked.

“Um, well -” without warning, Sensei flicked a shuriken through the bunshin speaking to him, dispelling it just as the real Aozen emerged from a Shunshin, drawing his sword in the same move. Had Sensei been kind enough to stand still, it would’ve bisected him, but of course, one of the most powerful ninja in Konoha chose instead to seamlessly kawarimi with a twig several metres away. 

“A valid answer,” Sakumo said with a smile. “And a decent tactic. Although it was missing a few pieces in the middle.” Aozen sheathed his sword. *His* sword, he said mentally, still proud of it.

“You could still hear me and sense me, while there was nothing from the Bunshin.” Aozen answered. He lacked the resources and the wherewithal to intuit chakra.

“Among other things,” Sensei agrees, looking pleased. “The sound on the Bunshin was a nice touch, though.” Aozen frowns.

“What do you mean?” Sensei canted his head.

“The sound genjutsu on your Bunshin. I assumed it was something another Uchiha taught you.” Aozen’s frown deepened.

“I didn’t cast a genjutsu. That was just a Bunshin.” Why would he assume there to be a genjutsu? Aozen had never cast one before.

“The standard Bunshin is immaterial.” Sakumo said, pursing his lips. “Make another Bunshin for me.”

Still a little confused, Aozen obliged, running through the hand seals with practiced efficiency. A double of himself occurred. The terrible twosome looked at himself, then back to Sensei. Aozen felt a strange prickling sensation as Sakumo peered closely at him.

“Speak for me.” Sakumo requested.

“Okay.” Aozen said. “Testing, testing, one-two.”

“Mhn. And can you make your Bunshin do the same?” Aozen nodded, and looked at his Bunshin, concentrating.

“Testing, testing, one-two. Testiiiiing.” The Bunshin spoke.

“Hm. That takes more effort for you, doesn’t it?” Sakumo said after a moment.

“I just have to concentrate to make it do what I want. If you would call that ‘harder’.” Aozen blinked.

“Hm,” the older ninja intoned, before the prickling sensation vanished and he stood up straight. “Well, I’ve never met anyone who *accidentally* cast genjutsu, but it makes sense that it would be an Uchiha.” Aozen blinked several times; what? “Congratulations, pup, you’re a natural.”

“I’m a what?” he said flatly, confused. He had cast a genjutsu? Without *knowing*? How was that possible - didn’t a genjutsu affect someone’s brain? Wasn’t doing that accidentally like, extremely dangerous?

“A natural. Now, come along, Aozen-kun, you’re going to learn the water-walking exercise and hate me for it.” Mostly because he was still confused, Aozen followed along without complaint.

======================================== 

Surprise surprise, Sakumo-sensei was right: Aozen *did* hate him.

Not for the water-walking exercise itself. That was frustrating initially, and he took several more baths than he’d initially planned that day (in cold water, no less), but he could eventually stand and move on the surface of a calm pond without much trouble. After several hours of continuous practice. Sensei had watched and offered pointed advice and occasionally laughed.

No, it was because, as soon as Aozen had gotten used to doing so, Sensei threw his sword at him (unsheathed) and told him to get ready to fight. Aozen had floundered, nearly falling then and there as he managed to catch the sword.

He was dressed in his skivvies, which were still damp, wet hair drawn into a messy ponytail, and his Sensei had thrown a sword at him.

“Sensei, I’m going to fall,” he protests immediately as Sakumo walks effortlessly onto the water’s surface, looking as though he’d never stepped off of the earth. 

“Probably,” Sensei agrees, “and then you’re going to get back up!” He finished cheerfully. 

“Aren’t I supposed to move onto something like a stream, and then a river, and *then* things like this?”

Sensei canted his head. “Are you saying you can’t do it?” His Uchiha pride prickled.

“I can *mostly* do it.” he retorted, a little defensive. “Just…” He looked down at the water’s surface, which had nary a ripple. “Oh, fine. Are you going to block with your hands again?”

“‘Blocking’ assumes that you’ll hit me in the first place.” Sakumo said casually, and Aozen’s eyes narrowed. 

He took one step forward, blade at the ready. Sensei stepped back. The pond was of a decent size as far as ponds go, probably two dozen meters wide and fairly circular, so it wasn’t like Aozen could corner him. He stepped forward again. Sensei stepped back again. 

He started walking more rapidly, and Sensei began walking backwards just as casually, changing his direction to avoid walking back on land. Aozen chanced the beginning of a run, but was ‘rewarded’ only by the foot he’d begun to put pressure on sinking into the water and disrupting his balance. He tried to recover by pushing off with his remaining foot but only succeeded in launching himself further in the water.

He had enough awareness to keep his sword raised and hopefully out of the water as much as possible before he surfaced again, spluttering and stroking with one hand to get back to shore. He looked back to Sakumo-sensei, who was smiling brightly from his position in the middle of the pond, untouched.

He spat out some water, and glared at him. Sensei chuckled. Aozen blurred through seals - only three this time - to form the Grand Fireball, utilising his breath to shape the jutsu into a smaller and thus faster shape.

Naturally, his sensei wasn’t even remotely phased, simply appearing on the shoreline a few metres away. The jutsu dissipated on the far side of the pond. Aozen hadn’t moved.

“Did you do that just to show your annoyance with me?”

“Yes.” Aozen deadpanned, dripping wet and looking, to Sakumo’s eyes, something like a frazzled puppy. He laughed, loud and hearty, and Aozen didn’t smile, he *didn’t*. “You are frustrating.”

“I’m your sensei. I’m meant to be. But as long as you’re making progress, that’s fine with me. Ready to try again?”

Aozen groaned, but gripped his sword and walked back out on the water. Sakumo followed.

Rather than try and spar once more, Sensei instead had him run through the most basic of the Uchiha style’s katas as agonizingly slow as possible. Occasionally he would disturb the surface of the water, and for the first several times, it was always followed by Aozen partially or fully falling in (he may have gotten the water walking down fairly quickly, but the control necessary to adjust in a split-second wasn’t quite there yet). 

If he was supremely unlucky, Sensei would throw a jutsu at him; always low-level, like a Suiton: Suidan no Jutsu, or what he was pretty sure was the Doton equivalent. Aozen always shunshined out of the way, exploding water from the pond in the process, but he hadn’t been hit yet. 

This continued for several more hours, excepting a small lunch break in between, wherein the both of them had bento. Once the sun began to tease the horizon in the sky, Sensei called it quits.

“Good work today, Aozen-kun!” Sensei congratulated, and Aozen cursed the fact that the man actually sounded genuine, because he wanted to be angry. He couldn’t, though.

“Thanks, Sensei.” he said, dragging his clothes on his now-dried body. 

“Feeling up to getting something to eat?” Sakumo proposed, and Aozen pondered. In the end, it was the rumbling of his stomach that answered for him.

“...yeah, I’d better.” He said, running a hand through his still damp hair. “What did you have in mind?”

“There’s a barbeque place in the Akimichi district I’m fond of. I know the owners.” He added on, which didn’t surprise him in the least.

“Okay.” he said with a small smile. He wasn’t mentally fatigued beyond what one could expect, but his body was certainly exhausted and he was a growing boy; food would be most helpful. He pondered the aching in his legs with a frown, then looked up to Sakumo. “Sensei.”

“Hm?” the man said, checking something in his pack.

“Can you give me a ride to the restaurant?” He said seriously. Sakumo, to his mild surprise, didn’t even blink.

“Of course. Hop on, pup.” Aozen blinked once, then obliged - and oh, man, if he’d thought Tou-san was strong, Sensei was veritably carved from marble.

With a casual speed that put him and Shisui to shame - still a ways to go, he thought - Sensei shunshined out of the training ground and through Konoha. Despite the speed, the ride was smooth, and because of it, the ride was short. 

Aozen hopped off once they arrived, ignoring the incredulous looks both at one of Konoha’s most famous shinobi and at the comparatively tiny also-shinobi hopping off his back with a sword in hand. Aozen ignored the looks largely because he was tired, whilst Sensei only gave one of his characteristic smiles to the passersby while they got a table.

“Does the attention bother you?” Aozen asked once they’d sat down. Sakumo looked up from the menu.

“My reputation, you mean?”

“The attention, specifically,” he gestured towards the entrance of the restaurant, and at the others in the building who would occasionally cast them looks. “Having a reputation is one thing - most powerful shinobi have one - but… all of the looks. I mean, it’s positive attention, but. Still.”

Sakumo considers this. “No,” he says at length, “I don’t believe it does. It helps that I know most of the ‘looks’ are born of a… certain kind of respect, you could say. I do my best to make sure it’s earned.” Aozen nods at that, thinking.

He wonders what it would have been like, in another life. For that respect, that *adoration*, in some cases, to turn into… pity at best, disgust at the worst. How could an entire village betray one of their greatest heroes? He’d barely known Sakumo-sensei for that long, but the man had an *aura* about him of undeniable warmth. He was happy; happy serving his village, happy with his duties, doubtless happy with his son. To have been driven to such a dark place as to feel that the only way out was…

Aozen mentally sighed. Danzō, of course, was to blame. He couldn’t really fathom how Sarutobi Hiruzen, who was by all accounts a great Hokage and good man, was blind enough to allow such evils to persist. He’d already changed things though, surely; maybe, if he could ensure that Minato never died, Danzō’s particular brand of evil would never be allowed to take root.

Hah. Morbid pun.

“Your father was right,” Sensei said suddenly, jolting him from his thoughts, “had I known any less, I would peg you as a Nara. You think a lot.” Aozen pouted.

“Everyone always says that. Like thinking is a bad thing.” He crossed his arms and leaned back in his seat.

Sakumo chuckles. “It isn’t, on its own. But a person who thinks all the time can lose touch with reality. With what’s right in front of him. Such as, for example, the menu of this wonderful restaurant.” he said pointedly, and Aozen reddened a little bit.

“I don’t eat out,” he said sheepishly. “You order for me. Just know that I don’t like spicy things.”

“Noted.” Sensei said mirthfully.

“What’s your favorite color?” Aozen asked casually a few moments later.

“Yellow,” Sensei answered just as easily, pondering the menu.

“Favorite food?”

“Oden.” He said, still not looking up.

“What’s your nature affinity?” Sakumo blinked at the shift in question, but still answered.

“Raiton.” Aozen brightened immediately.

“Really? I think that’s my affinity, too.” Now Sakumo looked up.

“Have you been tested?” He asks, curious.

“No, but your chakra is indicative of your affinity, right? How it feels? Mine feels like static, like - like when your ears pop before it rains.” That was the best he could describe it without explaining technology that didn’t exist in this world.

Sensei looks intrigued. “Really? I’ll bring some chakra paper tomorrow and we can find out for certain. If that’s true, then it’s beneficial. I can show you all the neat jutsu.” Aozen’s eyes light up at that and Sensei laughs.

“That sounds amazing,” he says earnestly, and falls back into his seat. He knows better than to think tomorrow ‘won’t be so bad’, because he’ll be cursing his Sensei just as much as he did today then, too, but… well, learning jutsu sounded kinda neat. As the waitress comes, he lets Sensei order and specifically tunes out what he says; he wants to be surprised.

“Sensei,” he began, “what do you think me casting a genjutsu without realising it means?” Sakumo opened his mouth, and Aozen quickly adds, “And don’t say that it means ‘I’m a natural’.” Sensei gave him a wry smile, but then thinks on the question for a few moments. 

“It’d be incorrect to say you have a ‘genjutsu affinity’, at least, as far as the same way nature affinities work, but the easiest way to put it is that your mind instinctively grasps how illusions work. The bit with the sound - I knew it was a genjutsu to start, and I was impressed at the quality, even if it wasn’t well hidden. We’ll have plenty of time to work on it.” He gave another smile.

Aozen gave him one in return, a smaller, more honest one. “Thank you for answering me like I’m an adult.” he said, and now Sensei looked a little surprised.

“Am I the first?” He questions delicately. Aozen shakes his head.

“No. Kaa-san and Tou-san do, and both Fugaku-ojii-sama and Fushima-oji-sama do. When I don’t mess up my words in front of them. But some of the teachers at the Academy didn’t. It annoyed me, because they never answered my questions properly.” 

He didn’t like being open, necessarily. But more than that, he *hated* not being seen - by those relevant to him, at least, even if they weren’t so important. The Academy teachers; those he could ignore, tolerate if necessary. But if his Sensei had decided that his age meant that he obviously couldn’t be mature enough, if he had been *babied* - well. He probably would have had to tolerate it, for the sake of the people he could save, but he wouldn’t have liked it.

Sensei fixed him with a more intense look than Aozen had managed to garner thus far. “I’m sorry that happened to you,” he says earnestly. Aozen blinks.

“Thank you.” He inclines his head. 

Such a simple apology, on behalf of people that Sakumo had never met, but he’d meant it so deeply. Aozen resolves in a single moment to protect the man at all costs - from Danzō, from other shinobi, from himself.

“You’re a good person, Sensei.” Aozen observes; because it is an observation. Sakumo can’t understand the breadth of knowledge Aozen takes into account to reach that observation, but hopes he’ll internalize it anyway.

Surprise flits across Sakumo’s face, because he gives a short laugh. “Thank you, Aozen-kun. I try my best.”

“I thought so,” Aozen nods at that, then looks out across the restaurant for something to observe whilst they were waiting on their food.

Turned away as he was, he didn't notice Sakumo’s expression: something akin to wonder at this strange ‘prodigy’, who not a few minutes ago he’d given a Shunshin ride on his back, and then had looked at him and said a few words as though Sakumo’s soul had been lain bare.

He chuckles to himself at the strangeness of it, then turns to people-watch alongside his apprentice until their food comes.

*This is going to be a very interesting apprenticeship.* He thinks to himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> woooooooo
> 
> another one down~
> 
> i feel like i'm giving everyone false hope because i really don't know if this posting spree will continue?? but i'm having fun so idc
> 
> things are happen! people do thing! i'm sleep deprived!! (i have only myself to blame)
> 
> idk sakumo is just such an interesting character to me. and despite aozen being based on myself, i'm discovering things about him as i go along that i hadn't pinned/necessarily intended in the beginning.
> 
> i feel like people underestimate the power that an S/I has? not literally, as in the potential to be a powerful shinobi or w/e, but literally just to change things and people. aozen's already changed lives just by virtue of having met people and been mostly himself. he's made no mention or real use of his meta knowledge yet, he just knows what he *wants* to prevent. the insight into characters we have by having read these stories is insane, honestly, and it gives such an intense psychological edge. people think that being an S/I is all about changing the big events and stuff, and yeah i guess that's part of it, but what about the people that instigated those events in the first place? what if you just wanna fix them, and maybe making the world a better place will happen along the way
> 
> idk tho
> 
> comment if you like! it brings me great joy to read and respond to the comments, even if it's just a 'i liked reading this'. i'm genuinely so happy to hear that people actually enjoy something i write - or even if you don't enjoy it! if i made you feel anything when reading, i did what i came here to do
> 
> cheers!!  
> ~ylri


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